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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065098">We're All Disasters But That's Okay, Innit?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ServantOfMischief/pseuds/ServantOfMischief'>ServantOfMischief</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, All The Love, Alternate Universe - Human, Anxiety Attacks, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Babylon has a temper, Child Neglect, Childhood Trauma, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), F/F, F/M, Families of Choice, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Healing, I am going on an adventure, I do this instead of my assignments, I have planned a happy ending so, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Not to any of the mains tho, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Professor Crowley (Good Omens), Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Slice of Life, Social Anxiety, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Therapy, Unless my mood does a 180 when I reach the end, Warlock and Adam are friends, who knows anymore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:53:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>28,974</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065098</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ServantOfMischief/pseuds/ServantOfMischief</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Not everyone gets a happy childhood. Not everyone gets to grow up in loving families, not everyone is bloody normal and happy and all sunshine and bright smiles all the bloody time. </p><p>But Crowley is bloody well going to ensure that Warlock gets the best childhood he can ever have. He's not going to fail his nephew when everyone else have. He'll give the boy good memories, a nice learning experience, teach him right from wrong and all that shite. </p><p>Babylon, as sappy as it sounds, will always support her brother, and she loves little Warlock. But her greatest wish of all is being a functional human being who don't break down at the slightest bit of pressure, is that too much to ask?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>102</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Me: Brain, please, no. Let me finish my other works. </p><p>Brain: No, take this au, feed me.</p><p>Me: Please, just let me finish-</p><p>Brain: FEED MEEE</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Let it be said, on the record, that Anthony J. Crowley is no stranger to curveballs being thrown into his life and screwing him over again and again, making him have to pull the tattered pieces of his life and gingerly sew them back together. From a young age, he’s been able to take care of himself, just so nobody would notice that his homelife was absolutely disastrous. Nobody could know, bad things would definitively happen if anyone figured it out, and it was Crowley’s duty to make sure no one <em>could</em> figure anything out. Then he’d been thrown his first curveball: He was going to become an older brother. In most households, that would be happy news. With a violent, drunk, deadbeat dad, and a drug addict for a mother, it’s just not the same. It’s not something you jump in joy from, it’s something you dread.</p><p> </p><p>But his mother cleaned up during the pregnancy, his father drank less, and Crowley wondered, if for just a moment, if this was it. Then he turned ten, he actually got a birthday cake, his very first one for as long as he could remember, then Babylon was born a few months later, and his father bolted, and his mother stayed clean for just long enough for Babylon to turn four years old.</p><p> </p><p>But no one noticed, because Crowley knew how to cook (easy meals, nothing too fancy), clean and even do laundry.</p><p> </p><p>He had one year left to get his PhD in university when his mother died of an overdose. It was a mess, and Crowley had to fight tooth and nail to get to keep Babylon with him. A saving grace was that Babylon was old enough that her decision mattered, and that she told child protective services that no matter where they put her when they said they planned on putting her in the system, she’d run away again and again to find her brother, because he was the only person she trusted.</p><p> </p><p>Child protective services relented after a while, but only under the condition that the both of them would go to therapy. After all, both of them had suffered trauma they needed to unpack and work on. And they needed a place to stay, together, and Crowley was lucky that one of his professors knew someone who rented out flats for a reasonable price, so they had a place to live. That had been the fifth curveball thrown at him.</p><p> </p><p>He had managed then. He had finished university, got a job at it, is even able to sit home and properly help his sister with her homework without drowning in his own. Now, it’s better, so much better. There is normalcy, there is time, there is no hiding.</p><p> </p><p>“You need any help?” He calls from the kitchen and gets a muffled grumble back. He’ll take that as a no which means she’s probably about done, he thinks as he empties out the pasta from the pot. The meatballs are resting in the sauce and he pulls plates and cups out of the cupboards and ambles into the living room.</p><p> </p><p>“Make room.” He commands and Babylon shuts her notebooks and school books and drops them under the table. He makes the table and they enjoy an episode of Golden Girls while eating dinner, but Crowley keeps on side-eyeing his sister as they eat, frowning. Babylon has been irritable since he got home, and he’s given her ample time to start up a conversation. He makes the first move, since she’s apparently not going to:</p><p> </p><p>“What’s wrong?” She drops her knife and fork onto her plate with a loud clatter as she throws herself back on the couch, moving the entire furniture a few inches with the force of her movement.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s my bloody therapist! The one I was suddenly changed to a month ago, she’s a fucking bitch!” Alright, that is rather explosive, which means this has been a long time coming. Crowley pulls a leg up on the couch as he turns to face her, a signal that she’s got his full attention and may just vent and scream and yell all that she wants to be able to feel better.</p><p> </p><p>“She’s <em>controlling</em> the sessions! I don’t get to talk about what I want or <em>need</em> to talk about.” Babylon crosses her arms, looking a mix of both angry and uncomfortable. Teenagers are capable of the most amazing things with their faces, and temper, and humour. Teenagers are frightful creatures.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you want to talk about?” Crowley asks.</p><p> </p><p>“How I can deal with mum’s death, because I feel guilty about that even if I know I couldn’t do anything. How I felt when I had to say no when people wanted to come over because I never knew if my mum was high or not, what it felt like to find her lying-“ Her voice cracks, and she immediately scoots over to him, letting him hug her close. “finding her lying on the living room floor.” She finishes shakily, and Crowley tightens him grip on her. To get that phone call that his mother had died, to learn later on that it was an overdose (though he had suspected that) and that Babylon was the one who found her, it had been absolutely horrible to learn. It had made him feel so much guilt, that it was Babylon who found her, that Babylon was the one home with her when it happened and not him… He was supposed to be the one to find her, not Babylon.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ve never once talked about it. Maybe because I opened up a little about it with my first therapist, but we didn’t talk much about it, I wasn’t ready back then. But I want to talk about it now, put it in perspective, get my brain to understand that it’s not my fault.”</p><p> </p><p>“What have you two been talking about? Have you tried starting it?” He knows she probably has, but he has to explore all the options, and not assume anything. He has a horrible habit of doing that, he’s talked with his own therapist about it. Don’t jump to negative conclusions immediately.</p><p> </p><p>“Every time. I try and start up with it, I say I want to talk about it. I tried to tell her I’ve got recurring nightmares about it-“ and that’s news to him, but he knows his sister well enough that if he cuts her off now when she’s so vulnerable, she might clam up, “but she cuts me off <em>every time!”</em> She sounds like she’s on the edge of crying and he squeezes her tighter.</p><p> </p><p>“She cuts me off, and starts saying, <em>not hinting at</em> but outright saying that staying with you wasn’t a conscious choice by me, but something you manipulated me into doing, and that I should think of the fact that you’re abusive against me. She says that she knows I’ll be better off with a foster family, and that I should seriously consider it. That she’d even tell child services that she recommends it.” And Crowley feels anger boil in him. He is <em>not </em>abusing Babylon, in any way, shape or form. He wants to find the therapist and tell her she has no idea what they’ve been through, but he’s also so terrified of stepping out of line. He’s terrified that if he steps one foot over line, they’ll take her. It’s one of the reasons why he doesn’t date, why he hasn’t found himself a partner, why he feels exceptionally lonely at times. He talks with his therapist about that too.</p><p> </p><p>This is also the twenty-third curveball since Babylon was born.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s ridiculous. I didn’t even get to see you before nearly three weeks had gone by. You were fighting to get to me before we were allowed to see each other again.” He grumbles.</p><p> </p><p>“I missed her funeral because of that.” Babylon says quietly. “Do you think I can sue for that?” Crowley laughs at her joking tone.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll ask Beeze.” He promises.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want to see her anymore. I want my old therapist back. At least he listened, there was progress with him. No more nightmares with him, at least. I want Ligur back.”</p><p> </p><p>“You can ask for that, you know. They’re the ones who switched them out, and they didn’t even warn you. Next time, ask to change back.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay. Can we talk to Beeze first?” Babylon asks, unsure and Crowley nods.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll see if I can’t arrange that for you.” The day ends with them finishing the rest of the season of Golden Girl’s and just hugging each other before they head off for bed.</p><p> </p><p>The next day is mostly a positive thing. Breakfast is the usual cheery affair. Or as cheerful as it can be with a moody teenager and a sleepy Crowley drowning himself in caffeine. By the time his lectures start up, he has properly woken up (a miracle), and the day is as normal as it can be. Crowley likes normalcy. The dull normalcy.</p><p> </p><p>Until he is sitting in his office, one hour left before his day is over, and he gets curveball number twenty-four thrown in his face. Or rather, he likens the news as being hit in the stomach with a baseball bat. It certainly feels like someone knocked the breath out of him, when the people who marched into his office relays the news to him. Somehow, Crowley isn’t quite sure what to say, for once he is speechless, and he goes home early. He’s home before Babylon, as she’s out with some friends today and after that she’ll meet with Beez, and he should try and have dinner ready for when she gets back, and then he realizes he has to do some emergency shopping.</p><p> </p><p>Fuck.</p><p> </p><p>When Babylon comes home, something feels off. She’s not sure what’s different, but she wanders in and drops her backpack by the kitchen door.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony, why are you-“ She stops, staring at her brother standing by the counter with a toddler in his arms. His face is ashen, she can see that he’s not actually mentally here, and she shakes her head. Something is wrong, very wrong. The toddler turns at the sound of her voice and squeals. That jolts Crowley out of his thoughts and he turns around.</p><p> </p><p>“Babs.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why do you have a baby?” She says it in an angry kind of way, she sounds nearly hysteric, really, and she clears her throat and tries again, because the boy looks intimidated by her voice. “Why is there a toddler here?” Babylon doesn’t think the boy is her brother’s. First of all, the brat looks nothing like him, and she knows he’s gay. Not to mention that he’s steered clear of potential partner since their mum died. Babylon would <em>like </em>to think he’s just baby-sitting for a friend, but she’s pretty sure none of his friends are parents, and that wouldn’t explain his complexion.</p><p> </p><p>“This is Warlock.” Crowley says, turning around fully, slowly, leaning against the counter, like the solid surface is the only thing keeping him up. “He’s our, er, our nephew.” He relays the news as gently as he can, but Babylon still feels like she’s been slapped in the face. She doesn’t know much about their father, other than that he is a drunk who ran off when she was born. But the baby is proof he had another kid who then had a kid of their own. That’s what nephew means, after all, right? The son of a sibling? This is a bit too much. It doesn’t explain why Crowley is holding the toddler. Babylon leaves the kitchen and looks through  the entire apartment. No one else is there. This is too much for her right now. She needs, she needs the world to stop throwing curveballs. She collapses onto the couch, her head in her hands as she tries to make sense of her life.</p><p> </p><p>“Can we… Can we order in?” She asks, and Crowley nods before fishing his phone out of his pocket, ordering pizza, Babylon’s favourite with lots of pepperoni and cheese. He hopes it will cheer her up a bit, make it easier for him to explain, because he’s had two hours to wrap his head around it (though it’s nowhere near enough) and do it in a way that’s gentle. The way the people who had dumped the boy in his lap had not been gentle.</p><p> </p><p>They sit in silence while they wait. It’s almost a welcome thing, the jarring buzzing in the flat jolting them back into action. Crowley drops Warlock in her lap as he gets up and retrieves his wallet and the food, but when he comes back, the girl has not even touched the boy who is bouncing in her lap, staring up at her while she remains frozen. Crowley takes that as a sign that Babylon is not at all comfortable with the boy being under their roof, and that breaks his heart a bit. This all hinges on the both of them being okay with having him here. Crowley can’t honestly say that he’s ecstatic about this, but… the boy is just an innocent baby. He didn’t ask for any of this.</p><p> </p><p>But first they must eat. Babylon eats her slices quietly, Warlock makes a mess of himself with his porridge and Crowley tries to help the toddler while eating his own share. The only sounds are Warlock’s cheering as he tosses his spoon across the living room again and again. Crowley remembers when Babylon was his age. She’d toss things too, but teenage Babylon doesn’t seem as ecstatic as Warlock as she watches the spoon clatter to the floor, sending porridge on the floor as well. They finish their meals and Crowley cleans up the mess Warlock left before they all sit quietly.</p><p> </p><p>“What happened?” Babylon finally asks, and Crowley tells her what child protective services told him. They’re the boy’s only reliable family (he spares her the gritty details), and that he’s Crowley’s responsibility, unless he wants to give the boy up for adoption, or send him into the foster care system. Crowley never even knew about this second sister that brought about a kid, but… giving him up? It just seems so cruel, it’s like saying that no one wants him. And, well, Crowley doesn’t, he just doesn’t want to be the one to say that. What guarantee does he have that the kid gets adopted by a good family?</p><p> </p><p>“”That’s not fair!” Babylon exclaims, leaping to her feet. “We had to fight and argue to stay together, but <em>him</em> they just dump on you, just like that?!” Warlock startles, and tears up, and Crowley hurries to calm him down. The redhead can understand where she’s coming from, he really does. They did have to fight to be able to stay together. He hadn’t even been forewarned about Warlock, they’d just ambushed him at his office. He needs to talk with Beeze about this, maybe they know something, or knows someone who knows something. He’ll call them, ask if they can come by, this evening or tomorrow.</p><p> </p><p>“And what does this mean? Just dropping him on you like this? Is it because in five months you’ll be free to actually live?!” Crowley’s head snaps up from where he’s trying to calm down a scared Warlock. Babylon raising her voice had spooked him. Five months from now… in five months, Babylon will be eighteen, a legal adult of her own.</p><p> </p><p>“Babylon, do you think you’re a burden?” Her face twists, from anger to guilt and that’s just, it’s so wrong, he can’t even begin to describe how wrong it is. “You’re not, you know that, don’t you?” She whimpers, crossing her arms and looking at her feet.</p><p> </p><p>“I know I’m not, but sometimes my stupid brain makes me think so. You’ve practically raised me, and you’ve sacrificed a lot for it, and it makes me angry, sad, guilty. I-I feel so many things and I’ve got no way to- I don’t always manage to control my emotions, and I can be a handful, and sometimes I wonder if you’d be better off without me.” Crowley thought he and Babylon are better at communicating than this, better at explaining how they feel at times because they have only ever had each other to rely on, but apparently it is not so.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry.” Babylon says as she chances a glance up and sees his expression. “I didn’t want to worry you.” She adds quietly, and he waves her over. She’s slow to come back to her seat, but she burrows into his side when he lifts his arm.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not a burden, you’ll never be a burden. If I knew all of what I know now back then, I’d still fight for this. I’d never let you get sent off with strangers.” He says firmly. And he would. No matter what, he would have. He’s practically raised her since she was a baby herself, with or without their mother, he would have had that responsibility until Babylon became an adult either way, and he has always felt okay with that. It takes some time until Babylon manages to calm herself properly, and when she feels better, she stares at Warlock for a long time.</p><p> </p><p>“Hearing all that, how can I be annoyed with this one?” She pokes Warlock, who latches onto her hand, giggling, now that they everyone has calmed down.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re allowed to not be happy about it.” Crowley mutters, though it is with utmost seriousness. This is something that was sprung on the both of them, Crowley just got a few more hours to settle to the thought. Not that he managed to settle at all before Babylon returned home.</p><p> </p><p>“You fought to keep us together because we’re family. Just because we didn’t know about him, doesn’t make him any less family, now does it? I was, <em>am</em>, terrified of the system. If I’m unwilling to fall into the system myself, how can I send him there?” She says, letting Warlock tug and push on her hand as much as he wants.</p><p> </p><p>“So we’re keeping him? You’d be okay with that?” Crowley asks, and she nods. She’s happy that he always checks up on her and what she wants before making major decisions. He’s not her parent, he’s her brother, but he is the adult, and ultimately, his decision is final. He wouldn’t have given Warlock up, he’s not like that, but he wants Babylon to be okay with it too.</p><p> </p><p>“Do we have all that he needs?” Babylon asks, and Crowley shakes his head. In the baby bag there are a few changes of clothes, a few diapers, baby powder and wipes, the essentials, a baby blanket. Nothing more. That’s something Crowley finds <em>very </em>irresponsible of child protective services, that they didn’t give him a forewarning, so he’d have everything they needed to house a toddler. Like a fucking bed, for starters, or toys or clothes or <em>anything.</em></p><p> </p><p>“We’ll have to go shopping.” Crowley dreads the thought, but it is urgent. Sure, he can make a safe space in his own bed, he did it often enough with Babylon when she was a baby, but there is some sense of safety that the boy will be safe in his own bed. He wants to give the kid what he needs and deserves. Crowley has the money for a crib. Unlike his parents, he won’t use the money on drugs and alcohol.</p><p> </p><p>“We can ask our landlady? I mean, she has grandkids. Maybe she has some hand me downs?” That is a splendid idea, really, and after making sure that it is Thursday and no any other day of the week, they head out and up the stairs to the third floor where their landlady lives, and checks if they can charm her with little baby Warlock.</p><p> </p><p>Turns out, Marjorie Potts is an absolute sucker for adorable toddlers with blue eyes.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sometimes, being outside is just too hard and people scare you</p><p> </p><p>Also, anyone catch the Pirates of the Caribbean reference?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next time Babylon meets her therapist, Uriel Thorpe, she calmly and clearly says that she wants to talk about her mum. Uriel immediately redirects the conversation, yet again, and Babylon feels the very last tendrils of her patience start to tear. And she thinks to herself that she doesn’t deserve this. She is supposed to talk about things that bother her, trauma she needs to unpack and dissect and understand and file away so that it won’t hang over her head and cause her trouble and more pain and angst and nightmares. She is supposed to get help, not to be ignored and forced into subjects that makes her feel like she’s being used for something.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m changing to another therapist.” She states, eyeing the recorder. She hates that recorder, even though she consented to it, because Uriel said it would help her work with helping Babylon get past her trauma, but Babylon doesn’t feel helped, so she hates it, so bloody much.</p><p> </p><p>“Why would you do that? I thought we got along well.” To Babylon, it’s obvious that Uriel doesn’t care about her. Professionalism is one thing, but she’s pushing her own agenda and Babylon doesn’t appreciate it.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t give one iota of a damn about me, don’t try and claim anything else. You won’t let me try and talk about my trauma, you’re not helping me heal. You’re trying to push me into leaving my brother, and that’s the very last thing I want. After today, I’m changing who I see, because you’re making me uncomfortable, you’re belittling my trauma and my problems.” The teenager says, crossing her arms across her chest.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous, Babylon.” The woman rolls her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Rolling your eyes while saying that doesn’t exactly call for trust. I’m changing therapists after today, and that’s that.” Despite the fact that she is very tempted to give in to her anger, that she feels like yelling and causing a scene, she’s keeping calm. She’s proud of herself, she’s able to control her actions. Crowley would be so proud if he saw her now. And it also feels like she’ll lose to the woman if she gives in. Babylon hates losing.</p><p> </p><p>“How about we talk about your living arrangements?” Uriel says, ignoring Babylon completely. “How is it, living with a new family member?” Babylon sits up in her seat, eyes widening. Child and Social services are the ones who set her up for therapy sessions, and as such the therapists who work with her are briefed on her life up until her mother died, so that they know what they’re working with, but everything that has happened after that is something they must learn from Babylon herself. And Babylon has not told Uriel anything about Warlock. How could she? This is her first time back in session after Warlock was dropped in their lap. And she doesn’t want to talk about Warlock, because Warlock is <em>fine and in no way the cause of her problems. </em></p><p> </p><p>“How do you know that?” Uriel slowly looks up from her notepad. “How do you know about my nephew?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not important-“</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Of course</em> it’s important!” Babylon snaps, slowly standing up from the couch. That Uriel does as well, unnerves the teen. “Either social services has told you information you’re not privy to, or you’re stalking me, and both scenarios are pretty terrifying. <em>How </em>do you <em>know</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Babylon, I think it’s best you sit down-“ Uriel attempts, but Babylon cuts her off as she grabs her jacket and backpack.</p><p> </p><p>“No! I am uncomfortable, I’m not safe here and we are done!” And with that she races outside and jumps onto the first bus heading to the university her brother works at. According to her clock, he’s still teaching a class, but she’s got a spare key to his office, so she waits for him there. When he finds her, she is a trembling mess, jumping at every little sound and shadow.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Crowley has his own sessions with his therapist. It’s only once a week now, and with everything that has been happening lately, it feels like his days are so fucking stuffed he doesn’t find the time for just himself anymore. Fortunately Dagon, his therapist, doesn’t seem to think he need more than this. At the moment. That can change at any moment though. Maybe after today it will change.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re quiet today.” She grunts, but pointedly stares at his foot, bouncing rhythmically, like it has a life of its own. Might be true too. Crowley is all angles and long, thin limbs with just enough coordination to get him by without making a fool of himself.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t know where to begin.” He mutters. Dagon leans back in her chair.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I ask questions then? And you answer those you feel like answering?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, sure, whatever works.” It sounds a lot easier than picking a subject himself, there is so much going on in his head right now, all a jumbled mess of emotions and thoughts and plans that need to be revised and changed or dropped and it’s too fucking much to untangle on his own.</p><p> </p><p>“Since you don’t know where to begin, I can guess that a lot has happened. How is your professional life?” A stab in the dark, but surprisingly the only place that is doing well in his life is his professional life. Or rather, it’s not that other parts aren’t doing <em>well</em>, per se, it’s just that his professional life is the only thing that has remained unchanged, the only part of his life that has remained stable.</p><p> </p><p>“Just fine. Students will start hating me next week, with all the assignments I’m going to hand out.” He grins a bit.</p><p> </p><p>“And then, when you have to start grading those assignments, you’ll hate yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t ruin this for me, Dagon.” He groans, but his leg doesn’t stop pouncing.</p><p> </p><p>“So, professional life is fine. How is it at home?” The bouncing intensifies and Dagon knows she’s hit jackpot. “Is your sister alright? Or is it that you have found someone you’re romantically interested in?” Dagon, in her own blunt way, has always encouraged Crowley to go out, that he had that right as much as anyone else to find a romantic partner, but Crowley had planned on waiting until his life was stable; in other words, when no one could take Babylon away because of any mistake he would make. In five months, that would have been a reality, until three days ago. Now he has another person to take care of. And he is bloody terrified of not being able to take care of the kid, of the kid being taken away and handed back and forth like his feelings don’t matter, like his nothing but an unwanted object being passed around until someone decides that they’ll do something decent.</p><p> </p><p>“No, no partner, nothing like that, er… Babylon, she’s in a bad way right now, because of her therapist.” Dagon frowns. “I mean, three days ago, a kid was dumped on me in my office by the same child protective services that nearly wouldn’t let me take care of Babs when our mum died, said he was my nephew, because apparently I have another sister though no one knows where she is, and Babs agreed that we could keep him, after some discussion, and when she went for her session and said she’s going to change therapist, the woman completely blew her off and started asking about the kid. Babs freaked, because she never told the therapist about the kid, so Babs ran away, feeling really unsafe.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s wrong on the therapist’s part.” Dagon says, crossing her legs.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. We talked to Beeze about it, and they’re investigating for us, as a favour. Either way, it’s a breach of privacy, and she’s adamant about not going to any sessions before this is cleared up, and I agree with her, she shouldn’t do it. Fuck, I almost have to fight every morning just to get her to go to school, she’s terrified.” Dagon makes notes as she listens, frown easing up.</p><p> </p><p>“And she seemed to have been doing so well lately. I’m sorry to hear that. How’s the kid? Your nephew, how is he adapting?”</p><p> </p><p>“As well as any toddler can, I suppose.” Crowley answers and Dagon pauses, looks at him long and hard.</p><p> </p><p>“A toddler?”</p><p> </p><p>“Teenage pregnancy, she ran off after a year, then his grandparents had him for six months or so, and then he was dumped on me.” Dagon sits very quietly, watching him with narrowed eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t misunderstand me here, Crowley, but you’re not going to wait another seventeen to eighteen years to find anyone, are you?” Crowley squirms in his seat, guiltily. “You’ve admitted to being lonely and wanting someone, and let me tell you that there are a lot of single parents who date while raising kids.”</p><p> </p><p>“And how many of them have bloody social services breathing down their necks?” Crowley snaps. Sometimes he does that, and Dagon is quite used to it. He does so when he feels cornered in their sessions, when Dagon points out something that is hinting to him punishing himself with what he knows is bothering him.</p><p> </p><p>“More than you think.” She replies and he grows silent. She lets him stew in it for a while, think a bit.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s… it’s best that I, uh, let things settle first, yeah? Until we’ve got everything under control? Babs at Uni and Warlock in kindergarten at least, yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“Where is he now?”</p><p> </p><p>“Our landlady is playing Nanny. I’ve applied for the kindergarten at Uni, hoping for the best. Would be less nerve-wracking to know I could get there quickly if they needed me. “</p><p> </p><p>“That sounds very reasonable, Crowley.” And fuck if it doesn’t feel weirdly fun and good when Dagon smiled with her too-sharp teeth while complimenting his progress. At least he’s making progress. He feels accomplished. Every little victory adds up to one giant one.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you scared?” Dagon asks, and Crowley tilts his head. “Of the fact that you’ve agreed to raise your nephew?”</p><p> </p><p>“Absolutely shitless.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thought so.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re enjoying this way too much.”</p><p> </p><p>“Keep telling yourself that, Crowley.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Crowley’s application to the university’s kindergarten is quickly approved, thank Satan (no, Crowley will never thank God for anything, She’s never been around so She’s sure as hell not getting any credit), because performing his lectures while having a toddler nested on his hip is just more troublesome than it needs to be, and it seems like his class thinks that he is a softie because of it.</p><p> </p><p>Which is utterly unacceptable, and he will not stand for it. He is a terrifying demon and everyone should know that. He gives them their assignments, enjoys the groans he hears at the sheer volume of the problem he has presented them, before he heads to his office, where someone is waiting for him. Crowley is relieved to see them, it means that something is going right for a change. Hopefully. According to the expression on their face, Crowley wants to think it’s something good.</p><p> </p><p>“You done for the day?” Beeze is a rare sight outside of their office nowadays, but them being here means they’ve got something.</p><p> </p><p>“Only office time, come on in.” He says as he unlocks the door.</p><p> </p><p>“So, I can arrange a meeting with Uriel Thorpe and her lawyer. I’ve talked with your contact in child protective services, and they claim not to have told Thorpe anything.” Crowley doesn’t know if he finds that more disturbing than them having breached any confidentiality.</p><p> </p><p>“So, she’s actually stalking Babylon?”</p><p> </p><p>“Might be stalking all of you. According to Babylon, Thorpe seemed like she was intent on turning her against you for who knows what reason. Anyways, since you’re her legal guardian, you need to be there.” Beeze informs him.</p><p> </p><p>“Course I’ll be there, but does Babs have to?”</p><p> </p><p>“If she’s really uncomfortable with it she can stay in my office if she wants.  We have evidence, so it’ll be a quick affair.” Crowley nods again, knowing that no matter how uncomfortable Babylon will feel, she’ll still stay with them during the entire meeting.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks, Beeze. You’re a life-saver.” Beeze looks highly offended at being thanked, or complimented, but that’s just how they are.</p><p> </p><p>A week later they are meeting with Uriel and her lawyer, Sandalphon, alongside the representative from child protective services. When asked to present the recording of the session in which Babylon had stormed out of, Sandalphon <em>regretfully</em> informs them that the recording has been, in some way, corrupted. Which means it is useless, and so it is Babylon’s word against Uriel’s. And in this world, people are quick to point fingers and call the orphans the liars. And it frustrates both Crowleys to no end, because this isn’t something Babylon came up with just because she doesn’t like Uriel. The representative, after a debate between the two lawyers and their clients, turn towards Babylon, Crowley and Beeze.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, Ms. Crowley, but it seems highly unlikely to me that someone of Ms. Thorpe’s status, who works in close relations with our agency and has done so for quite a few years would do something of the likes of which you’ve described.” And that’s just what they expected, isn’t it? Always take the side of those more fortunate, despite the fact that they should be advocating for Babylon. And it makes frustrated tears gather in her eyes as she turns to look at her brother. Beeze holds their hand up.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I have just a few questions first, before we end this?” The representative nods, Sandalphon visibly rolls his eyes and Uriel seems completely bored. Beeze marches on.</p><p> </p><p>“Ms. Thorpe, if you were in a courtroom, before a judge, and was sworn to tell the truth and only the truth, would you still claim that my client is lying?” Uriel nods. “Would you stake your career on it?” This time the woman frowns and leans forward.</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just answer the question.”</p><p> </p><p>“I understand that you must believe your client, Ms. Prince-“ Beeze does their best to avoid scowling outright at the frankly offending way they are being referred, at the blatant disregard for their preferred pronouns, “but your client is lying. That’s something that all of her ilk does. They lie to ruin those trying to help them.” Underneath the table, Babylon’s hand squeezes Crowley’s so hard the redhead grits his teeth to keep quiet. ‘Ilk’, what an unprofessional way to refer to one’s patients, but apparently that is what Beeze wants to hear, considering the wide and gleeful smile they show as they put their phone on the table and presses play.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I’m changing therapists.” </em>Babylon’s voice rings out, and Uriel’s eyes widen, her face pales and her jaw drops as they all listen to what had transpired throughout the session, ending with Babylon practically yelling:</p><p> </p><p><em>“No! I am uncomfortable, I’m not safe here and we are done!”</em> And that’s the end of it. With that same shit-eating grin, Beeze addresses Uriel.</p><p> </p><p>“So, do you still want to stick to your claim that my client is a liar?” Crowley is happy that Beeze is on their side. He wouldn’t want to be directed that grin after having his ass handed to him. Babylon wins that day, is assured she will get her old therapist back, and is swept home and treated to some delicious homemade comfort food and movies after she’s assured that Beeze will take care of the rest. Uriel will at the very least be going through an inquiry for her breach of Babylon’s privacy. The worst case scenario for her might be that she loses her license. Beeze lives to make other people miserable, or so they say.</p><p> </p><p>But even after hearing all that, it still takes Babylon a very long time before she feels safe again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Remember, he only gets-“</p><p> </p><p>“One glass of soda, I know.” Babylon says as she bodily pushes Crowley towards the door, leaving Warlock and Sara laughing quietly (or in Sara’s case at least) in the living room. “Now get out, or you’ll be late.”</p><p> </p><p>“I should cancel, it’s right before his first day of school-“</p><p> </p><p>“That’s three whole days from now. It’s the weekend, take the night off  from being a parent.” Babylon cuts him off.</p><p> </p><p>“But-“</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony.” Babylon snaps and he shuts up. “This is your third date in near on four years. Go out, live a little. It might be fun, it might be disastrous, but you’re going out.” He looks like he wants to argue, but she glares and he relents. Babylon at twenty-two is a terrifying force to reckon with, especially when she’s trying to get her brother to look after himself. And she’s right, this is the third date in four years. He’s been trying to get out a bit more after Babylon moved out and began college, trying to work on being comfortable with it, and he isn’t uncomfortable by the thought of going on this date, he is kind of looking forward to it, but… but there is no use arguing. Especially not when he has a babysitter for the boy. He has no excuses, and no reason to. The man he’s supposed to meet is handsome, and he seemed nice over the phone. He’s got nothing to lose, and he <em>does </em>want to.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine. Have him in bed by eight.” He mumbles.</p><p> </p><p>“Will do. Now, go have fun.” Babylon grins way too sweetly.</p><p> </p><p>“Have fun, Uncle AJ!” Warlock calls from the living room.</p><p> </p><p>“Will try, kiddo!” He calls back.</p><p> </p><p>“I mean it, Anthony.” Babylon says as he pulls his shoes on in the hall. “Enjoy yourself, have some fun, I can stay over if you want. You’re allowed to do that.” It’s hard to remember that at the best of times. He needs the reminders, but this time he just gives her a small smile and a wave before he’s out the door. Babylon heads back inside to her friend and nephew, and they open a bag of crisps and enjoy a movie. When Babylon receives a text where Crowley asks if she can stay the night, she grins and Sara decides to head home to their flat.</p><p> </p><p>When Babylon wakes up the next morning, Crowley still hasn’t returned, so she texts him, asks if he’s on his way back. Warlock wakes up before she gets a response, and together they prepare breakfast for when Crowley will return. It’s a mess in the kitchen, making waffles with a very energetic five year old is a recipe for a disaster, but he’s having fun and that’s all that matters right now. Though he’s repeatedly told he’ll have to help clean up. When Crowley walks through the kitchen door, he doesn’t look like someone who had a <em>fantastic</em> night, but someone who had an <em>okay</em> night, and doesn’t want to talk about it. And Babylon isn’t going to breach the subject with Warlock around either, but she must have been staring too much because he sets his coffee cup down and sighs.</p><p> </p><p>“Seemed a nice enough fellow, we had a good time, but agreed that was it.” She nods. Fair enough. At least he is putting himself out there, and that’s better than being home with his nephew without looking for anyone who is good for him. But he doesn’t want to talk about it right now, so Babylon changes the subject, looking at Warlock.</p><p> </p><p>“Warlock kept telling Sara how he was looking forward to his first day of school last night.” Warlock eagerly latches onto the attention given to him and chatters on about how he is going to make friends with everyone in his class.</p><p> </p><p>“Will you come too, Aunty Babs?” The boy asks, and she shakes her head apologetically.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, kiddo, I’ve got school myself. But I’ll come for dinner afterwards, and you can tell me all about it.” She promises. “I’ll even bring you something.” The boy lights up at that, and breakfast turns into a cheery activity where Warlock explains his plan for his first day of school, and while Crowley takes a shower the other two clean up, and they all enjoy the lazy afternoon together, before Babylon has to go for her session.</p><p> </p><p>“Why can’t I come?” Warlock has asked this question a thousand times, and each time he gets the same answer.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a private thing.”</p><p> </p><p>“But you tell Uncle AJ about it when you come back anyways.” The boy pouts, but Crowley ruffles his hair.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ve got other plans, Warlock. Weren’t we going to test out your new cool backpack?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!” The boy squeaks. “Yes, we were!” And Babylon leaves, and the two are left behind to get ready for the big day. Warlock walks around the flat, his black and red backpack over his shoulders, his brand new shoes and jacket on as well. The boy is very excited, and Crowley is happy for him. He had been excited for his first day of school too, but for a very different reason. Warlock is excited because it’s a milestone in his life.</p><p> </p><p>It’s going to be a great day, they’re both sure of it. The difference between the two of them is that when the day actually comes, when they pull into the parking lot to the school, Warlock is still excited, but Crowley is a ball of jumbled anxiety on too long legs. Warlock latches onto his hand and Crowley finds himself dragged inside the school by an over-enthusiastic first-grader. The moment they walk through the door, his anxiety levels rise, though he does his best to hide it. Warlock does not need to see Crowley getting lost in his own head on his big day. It’s just that every kid in here have both parents with them, and some even seem to know each other from before, and that makes Crowley’s thoughts take a very sudden dark turn.</p><p> </p><p>Shit, the kids here are already friends, Jesus fuck, he should have looked into a different school, shouldn’t he? Fuck, fuck, fuck, they all look so normal, and here he is, his hair pulled back in a half-bun at the back of his head, skin-tight black jeans, wide-collared Henley and a leather jacket, fuuuuuuuuck, he looks out of place here, doesn’t he? Jesus fucking Christ, he should have thought his wardrobe through a bit more. And while he is panicking on the inside, another student comes through the door, and Crowley sees another single parent (not that Crowley is a <em>parent</em> parent, you know, just a parental figure), and he nearly sighs in relief, until he sees what the man is wearing. It’s like seeing someone walk out of the 18th century, and he is the stark opposite of Crowley. The redhead is all black, the new man is bright colours, sunshine and <em>tartan</em>. His kid seems like he’s from this century at least, and very energetic, just like Warlock. And just like Warlock, the kid is tugging on his parent’s arm.</p><p> </p><p>“Calm down, my dear.” <em>My dear???</em> He doesn’t just <em>look </em>like he’s from the 18th century, he <em>sounds </em>like it too. And- and…. And he looks cute.</p><p> </p><p>The moment the thought hits him, he resists the urge to smack himself. Not exactly a normal thing to do, alarming really. People would certainly stare and talk, and he’d probably embarrass Warlock. Also, not exactly a good first impression now, is it? Besides, it’s okay to think that someone is cute, it’s normal. He’s heard how Babylon’s friends gush about both boys and girls during their teenage years. Hell, when the two of them watch movies together, she and Crowley call out handsome or cute actors. Completely normal. Absolutely.</p><p> </p><p>Just… He just has to keep it to himself. That’s the best course of action, yeah.</p><p> </p><p>The teacher comes in and shakes hands with all the parents, and once class begins, the parents either leave, or move to stand at the very back of the classroom to observe their children during their very first day of school. Most parents leave, but Crowley’s taken the day off so he can be here, if Warlock should need him. It seems the boy doesn’t though. He seems to be getting on with all the kids around him, which is good. Give the kid a good home, a childhood worth remembering with fondness, a good and proper upbringing and all the love he deserves. If Crowley can give him that, then he’ll be happy, he’ll be satisfied.</p><p> </p><p>Because it’s ten times more than Crowley ever had.</p><p> </p><p>“Our boys seem to be handling themselves well, don’t you think?” A voice says beside Crowley.</p><p> </p><p>“Yea-<em>ngk?!” </em>Crowley’s answer dissolves into fragmented syllables when he turns his head and sees Mr. 18th-Century stand beside him. He clears his throat and tries not to make a fool of himself.</p><p> </p><p>“Um, yeah, seems so, uh…?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, how rude of me. My name is Aziraphale Fell.” He holds out a hand for Crowley to shake, and Satan his hands are soft and warm. They look like they’ve just had a manicure, too.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony J. Crowley. Call me Crowley.” Huh, that came out a lot smoother than he thought it would, and if he was less cool than he is, he would have done a victory dance in his head. (He totally did.) Aziraphale nods, still smiling.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Crowley.”</p><p> </p><p>“Just Crowley.” The redhead says, and the man nods again.</p><p> </p><p>“My boy is Adam. Your boy’s name is Warlock, isn’t it? I saw the two of you together when we entered.” Crowley nods.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. I’m, er, I’m his uncle.” Crowley says awkwardly. “Adam’s mum couldn’t come?” He asks, trying to be normal, and not fishing. Not at all. It’s a perfectly normal question to ask, isn’t it?</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, no mother. I’m an eternal bachelor, I’m afraid.” He doesn’t sound all that broken up about it, Crowley notices. He wishes he was just as much at peace about it, but his sessions with Dagon has made it clear that he very much needs affection. She said something along the lines that it’s double so for him because he didn’t receive much of it as a child, but he knew a little, and he craves it as an adult because of that.</p><p> </p><p>He can’t dispute that.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re barely part thirty. Nothing eternal about that.” Crowley snarks, guessing the man’s age and Aziraphale looks so scandalized the redhead wonders if he fucked up.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll have you know, I’m nearly forty!” He exclaims quietly, but without any bite to it, and that coaxes a snort out of Crowley.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, sorry-“ He’s cut off as Warlock runs up to him, frantically tugging on his hand to get his attention.</p><p> </p><p>“Uncle AJ, Uncle AJ, I made a friend!” And, by pure coincidence, Warlock has brought Adam over, who is equally as excited as the dark haired boy. The two adults share a look. It seems they will be getting to know each other well, huh. Crowley would like a friend. It would benefit Warlock too that his parent-figure is getting along with the other kids’ parents too. Without a word, an Arrangement is struck.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Warning: a person with social anxiety having an attack</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The shitty thing about this first semester in her second year is that she doesn’t share any of her classes with anyone she knows, which means that she has to get to know new people. Now, for quite some time now, the thought hasn’t bothered her all that much, but now that she’s walking down the crowded halls, she feels anxiety welling up in her. She doesn’t feel good at all. She looks up, catches sight of the door leading out of the building. Her body has been moving on autopilot, and she decides that her day is over. Something has triggered her, and she needs an empty, quiet place. All she has to do, is reach the door. And that makes it a bit more bearable, makes her more aware of what’s happening, it’s a bit more grounding. Until she accidentally walks into someone. She hadn’t meant to.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey!” The voice of whoever she walked into booms and she flinches. “Watch where you’re going!” Her vision narrows down, her throat constricts.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re the one who walked into her.” Another voice echoes, but Babylon finds herself unable to focus on that. All that passes through her mind is “door, door, escape, door, get out”. She’s only half-aware of charging through the door, but she’s very aware of running around the building, stumbling to the back where there are no windows or people, only grass and the brick-wall. She tosses her bag and jacket as far away from herself as she can manage, before she slaps the palm of her hand into the wall for support, doubles over, and throws up. It’s terrifying, terrifying that she has been so well lately, only to fall apart so quickly on the first day, just because she’s on her own.</p><p> </p><p>Because she has been doing well, hasn’t she? She takes a few steps back and slides down, unable to stop the sobs. Fuck! She’s not sad, she’s scared! And she doesn’t know why, she doesn’t know what triggered her. It feels like it came out of nowhere, but it’s probably been a long time coming and she didn’t notice the signs.</p><p> </p><p>Like a balloon, her therapist had told her. With too much air, it’ll pop. Just like her.</p><p> </p><p>She curls in on herself, trying to get her breathing under control. Long breath in, short breath out, think about following the line of a rectangle, in and out. But it’s not working, it’s not working! She can’t calm down, and her phone is in her bag but she can’t move. She can’t call on anyone to help her, and that’s even worse. She’s all alone and helpless. Fuck, she can’t-</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, are you alright?” She turns around in a flash, pressing her back to the wall. There’s a man there, tall, broad-shouldered, but she can’t see his face, can’t do much of anything with the way she’s hyperventilating, really.</p><p> </p><p>“You seemed pretty spooked.” Only when her chest feels tight does she realize she’s holding her breath, and she gasps, trying to get some air into her body. She’s only partly successful.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you having a panic attack?” Another sob is wrenched from her as she nods frantically. “Shit, er, right, breathe in deep, slowly, alright?” She knows this, and had she been of sound mind she’d tell him to bugger off and mind his own business, but she is desperate for help, she’s so scared.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, look around, see if you can find five things with your eyes.” She does, head whipping around as she searches for five things. A fire-hydrant, the dumpster every university hide behind it’s pretty front, a tree, the pathway she stumbled along to get here and a bird landing on it. He has her recite aloud what she sees.</p><p> </p><p>“Now four things you can touch.” The man instructs her, and she slaps the wall she’s pressed against, yanks out the grass beneath her, crawls over to her bag and jacket on shaky limbs. The stranger carefully follows, trying not to startle her.</p><p> </p><p>“Three things you can hear.”</p><p> </p><p>“Campus, cars, you.” She mumbles, feeling like air is more easily attainable now.</p><p> </p><p>“Two things you can smell.” Her vomit, she thinks with disdain. She can also smell the stranger, who is sitting or kneeling or whatever, really close. It’s definitively much better than her half-digested breakfast.</p><p> </p><p>“One thing you can feel.” And she slumps, tension draining form her body.</p><p> </p><p>“Exhausted.” She admits, exhaling. She’s still shaking, her heartbeat is still faster than it should be, but she’s decidedly calmer. Calm enough to reach for her bag and not flinch away violently when the stranger hands it over to her. She hesitates when she pulls out her phone. Crowley is with Warlock. It’s Warlock’s big day, first day of school. Even though it’s a rational thing to do, she just can’t bring herself to call Crowley. She doesn’t want to ruin Warlock’s big day because she had a fit. Even though Crowley has told her to do so.</p><p> </p><p>For just a moment she considers taking the bus. Just the thought alone almost makes her throw up again. She gags and lurches forward, but nothing comes up. All that happens, is feeling contractions in her stomach, it almost hurts, and a sob forces itself out. A hand rubs her back, and it helps. It’s comforting.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you ill?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Not physically. “Just… just wondering how I’ll get home.” She says. The bus is out, and cab fares are just a waste. She could walk, put on her headphones and walk until her feet bleed. The distance is too long. She’s not even sure she’ll be able to keep her mind clear on the way.</p><p> </p><p>“If you need a ride, I can give you one?” She looks at him, this time noticing his actual face. He’s got a kind face. It sounds stupid, doesn’t it? Getting into a car with a stranger, but he had helped her calm down. He actually knew of a way to deal with a panic attack.</p><p> </p><p>“Please.” He gets up and holds out a hand for her to take before he carefully pulls her to her feet. She’s still shaky, so she leans on him all the way to the parking lot, lets herself be put inside the car.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you still feel sick?” He asks as he puts his seatbelt on.</p><p> </p><p>“Not so bad. Drive… drive slowly, just in case, yeah?” She asks, resting her head against the glass. She likes cars.</p><p> </p><p>“Where are we going?” He asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Mayfair.” She tells him. The car starts, and Babylon closes her eyes. She really likes cars. When she closes her eyes like this, she can remember when her brother came and picked her up from child and social services and brought her home. A home without a mom so high she doesn’t even know her own daughter’s name, a home where she didn’t cook and clean her parental figure every day, to a home she was properly cared about, and could be a child. It’s a quiet ride, until she has to give directions. After that, she finds herself exciting the car, heading into her brother’s building, slumps in the lift and stumbles through the door to the flat. She collapses onto the couch and pulls a blanket over herself and naps.</p><p> </p><p>She only wakes when Crowley shakes her gently and tells her that dinner is ready. She stretches, and joins them for dinner, then she calls Sara, and asks if she can bring down the overnight bag she always has ready for times like these when Crowley drives over.</p><p> </p><p>She shares a room with Warlock. Rather, it’s his room now, but whenever she stays over, they share it.</p><p> </p><p>“Did you have a bad day?” Warlock asks, and Babylon nods. Children are perceptive, there’s no use in lying.</p><p> </p><p>“Something happened that made it bad. I don’t know what yet. But today was fun for you, yeah?” Warlock nods excitedly and proceeds to chatter all about it until he falls asleep. It’s actually very refreshing, she thinks as she watches the boy snore gently from the other side of the room. It’s refreshing and comforting to hear that Warlock enjoyed himself. Also, she is very curious about this Adam and Mr. Fell. From what she could glean from Warlock, Adam seem like a potential playmate, but it’s the way that her brother avoids looking at them whenever Adam’s father is mentioned. She’s never seen him act like that.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe he doesn’t like Mr. Fell? She’ll have to ask him about it tomorrow, is her last thought before she falls asleep.</p><p> </p><p>A couple of days later, she knows why, she has even talked with Crowley about it, and advised him to use this opportunity given to him. Now she’s sitting in the cafeteria with another student from her class whom she had been paired up with to do some reflections over their work. Nice guy, bit shy and quiet, but incredibly sharp, much more so than people give him credit for. Lots of people will underestimate him, only to get slapped in the face by reality, Babylon thinks. She also thinks she’d like to witness those moments. And Babylon also thinks she’ll come to become good friends with him too.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s a lot of reading material for this class alone.” Erik mutters, looking over the reading list. Babylon silently agrees. There will be a lot of late nights at the library, and heavy backpacks. But she chose this course herself, so she’s only got herself to blame.</p><p> </p><p>“You feeling alright?” Erik asks and she nods. She’s told him about her being prone to anxiety attacks, just in case something should happen. She’s long since learned that it helps to have someone around who knows what’s wrong and knows how to deal with it. Erik was eager to learn how to deal with anxiety and panic attacks.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, but how about we set up a reading schedule?” Babylon looks through her mess of paper, books and notebooks on the table they are occupying, trying to find a pen.</p><p> </p><p>“We can plan which kind of days we’ll stay behind after class.” She mutters, before giving up and flopping back in her seat. “How about I make one and email it to you? Then make revisions if some days don’t work out?” Erik nods, but startles when she suddenly shoots to her feet.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be right back.” She says and jogs away. Erik watches her move over to a table full of what would have been called “jocks” back in high school. She tries to talk to one of them, only to be shoved by another. As Erik has been listening to Babylon explain her social anxiety all morning, he thinks she’s about to fall into a fit. He is therefore surprised when she scowls and snaps at the man who shoved her, before saying something to the other man who just smiles and nods. Then she trots back.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you know them?” Erik asks and Babylon shakes her head.</p><p> </p><p>“Nope. Now, which days work for you?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>So it’s been a couple of months since Warlock began first grade, and since Crowley and Aziraphale began that one day a week where the boys study together and then play together. At some point it had morphed into them all having dinner together as well. Crowley don’t know how that came to be (lies, he always make dinner in order to get them to stay longer after he realized how much of a foodie Aziraphale is, the absolute pathetic and needy mess that he is), but he is also not complaining. He’s over the moon, actually, and in deep shit. Because the man is a bloody angel, and apparently Crowley’s taste in partners is short, angelic and slightly bastard blondes wearing tartan.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Bloody tartan!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The bowtie should be ridiculous, but it has come to be one of the sexiest articles of clothing Crowley can think of. Which is so ridiculous. It’s a bowtie, outdated ones even. It really should not be as hot as it is, and Crowley should <em>not </em>be falling head over heels for Warlock’s best friend’s <em>dad</em>! That’s just… it’s a recipe for a disaster, isn’t it? Aziraphale is as gay as they come, he’s even admitted to that, as if Crowley didn’t already have trouble not just staring like a lovestruck fool, and there are times when Crowley thinks that the other man is looking at him more than is normal, giving blinding smiles that you give to someone dear and important to you, but that can’t be it, right? Just because Crowley has for some time now (since the day Aziraphale walked into the classroom, to be exact) felt warm and gooey every time he’s been around the other man doesn’t mean Aziraphale feels that very same way. Aziraphale is near on bloody perfect, with his fussy self, soft and kind and pretty beyond fucking words, but… Crowley is looking at all the options, and the consequences too, and he doesn’t like the thought of some of them. What if, by some miracle they do actually do a few dates, it ends up being so terrible that they lose that invaluable friendship they’ve managed to nurture? What if their fuck-up screws up Warlock and Adam’s friendship too?</p><p> </p><p>Crowley is a walking disaster on two legs, he has no doubt that he can fuck things up on a astronomical scale without even trying to. He needs to talk to someone about this, he thinks as he’s walking with the trash. Someone- who the fuck can he talk to without either being teased, told to suck it up or to just jump into it? Babylon will tell him to try, Dagon will tell him to try, hell, even Beelze-</p><p> </p><p>“Co-ee, Mr. Crowley!” He jumps startled and swings around, seeing his landlady.</p><p> </p><p>“Madam Tracy.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s Thursday, dear.” Ah, right, just Tracy. “You seem a bit out of sorts. Is there something weighing on your mind?” Tracy has listened to him before when he had something he needed to talk about. Telling her might be a good thing, right? After all, she’s experienced a lot and is much wiser than most give her credit for. So he dumps his trash and turns towards her again, rubbing the back of his neck.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, yeah. Would you mind?”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Aziraphale is having a similar problem. Somewhat.  The difference is that he isn’t trying to find someone to talk to, but rather keeping <em>someone</em> out of his business, and that is his neighbour, Anathema, the resident occultist in London. He is not having much luck with that, in case anyone is wondering.</p><p> </p><p>“Anathema.” He sighs around his tea.</p><p> </p><p>“Listen to me, Aziraphale. His aura around you, it’s so bright and full of adoration, and so is yours.” Now, Aziraphale doesn’t quite believe in ‘auras’, but he can’t deny that Anathema’s accuracy is, at most times, spot on as they say.</p><p> </p><p>“Your point?” But just because she’s hitting the nail on the head with terrifying accuracy, he will not admit to it. Yes, Crowley is absolutely gorgeous, and witty and sharp and all long lines and the complete opposite of Aziraphale, who is soft, sticking to his comforts and more than happy with his books and a quiet evening. Crowley can have anyone he wants, and he most certainly won’t want a man nearing forty, soft around the middle and, well, slow.</p><p> </p><p>“My point is you should invite him out on a date, Aziraphale.” The American rolls her eyes. “He likes you, his sister likes you, his nephew adores you. I’m telling you, you won’t regret it.”</p><p> </p><p>“And what happens if he says no, and things turn awkward between us? Even worse, what if it ends up affecting Adam and Warlock’s relationship?” The blonde frets. Oh that would be the absolute worst outcome. Aziraphale knows he’ll never be able to forgive himself if he does something that will deprive his ward of a most cherished friend.</p><p> </p><p>“It won’t!” Anathema insists. “I promise. You’re practically made for each other. And you know you’re invested in him romantically.” Aziraphale almost regrets telling her that, but also knows there’s no use in arguing. Once Anathema has set her mind on something, she won’t budge. Sometimes that can be a very admirable quality, but right now it’s just causing Aziraphale unnecessary stress.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on. Order in, invite him over for dinner and some wine, the good stuff you have in your cellar. What harm can one evening do? I promise, I won’t bring it up again if you do.” He glares at her half-heartedly. Despite having literally forced this conversation, she is kind and caring in reality. She’s just looking out for him. He just wishes sometimes that she could show it in a different way.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re a horrible busy-body, has anyone ever told you that?” But Anathema looks smug.</p><p> </p><p>“Not-a-one, but that’s because I’m never wrong about these things.” She tells him.</p><p> </p><p>A whole month passes before Aziraphale finds the courage to ask, the snow has started to fall, what little there is in London that is. Maybe it’s because he feels warm from the atmosphere in the Mayfair flat, the delicious dinner Crowley had made for them, the smiles and laughter and funny stories warming his heart and making him bold.</p><p> </p><p>“Crowley, if I may, before we go?” He asks as he puts Adam’s jacket on the boy.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?” Crowley seem so relaxed, though that is only natural since they’re in his home. It’s nice though, seeing him let his hair down, no shades covering his oh so stunning eyes, and be so relaxed and just… it’s unfairly attractive, really.</p><p> </p><p>“I was wondering if I would be horribly out of line if I asked you out for dinner?” There, he had said it. Without stammering, even. Crowley’s honey-golden eyes widen, and if it wasn’t for the way his cheeks flush so prettily, Aziraphale would have thought he has seriously overstepped. The way the redhead brings his hand to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly is endearing too.</p><p> </p><p><em>‘Good Lord, the entire man is lovely whatever he does!’</em> Aziraphale is unsure if his heart will survive this.</p><p> </p><p>“Ngk, er, yeah?” Aziraphale swallows.</p><p> </p><p>“To being out of line, or to dinner?” Ah, the nerves are making their enthusiastic return.</p><p> </p><p>“D-dinner, yeah, er, I’d like that.” Crowley hurries to say, and Aziraphale beams.</p><p> </p><p>“How about this Saturday at seven? I’ll order in something scrumptious, as I am afraid I am not as adept a chef as you.” Crowley stammers out an affirmative and Aziraphale finds that endearing as well. He will do his very best to make this up-coming Saturday the most memorable day of the week, he thinks as Crowley and Warlock bid them goodbye.</p><p> </p><p>Once the door is shut, and Warlock has been sent to the bathroom to get ready for bed, Crowley sags down onto the couch. If he hadn’t talked to Tracy back then, he would have declined that invitation, wouldn’t he? He would have jumped for joy on the inside for exactly two seconds, and then sobered up and gently let Aziraphale down. Not that he ever thought Azirapahale would ask, but he’s glad he did because Crowley don’t know if he would ever have found the courage to do so.</p><p> </p><p>But he should get Tracy something as thanks, and he needs to ask Babylon if she can babysit.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The preparations for the evening goes well for Aziraphale, he is quite happy with how his flat looks, his own outfit and very much so with the food he has ordered. It’s perfect, and when Crowley arrives, with a bouquet of flowers and adorably nervous, well, it just seems like the evening will be just lovely too. And for most of the date it is. Until it isn’t.  </p><p> </p><p>Until something happens, where Aziraphale pushes a bit too much and Crowley all but flees, in a rush of long limbs and the roar of his car. And Aziraphale is left alone in his dining room, hand still holding the bottle of expensive red, not quite sure what has happened, but realizing that he must have done something terrible.</p><p> </p><p>He’s just not quite sure what he did.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>When Crowley returns home, Warlock is fast asleep, and Babylon is sitting on the couch, lazily scrolling through the channels on the telly. When she hears the door open she sits up, ready to grill her brother on how his evening went, but the moment he comes into view, her grin fades.</p><p> </p><p>“What happened?” She asks carefully.</p><p> </p><p>“I fucked up.” He croaks and stumbles forward when his sister gestures to the couch, for him to come and sit. It takes several stunted tries, but he finally manages to explain what had happened. That dinner had been good, amazing even, that he’d avoided the glass of wine during the meal and drank water instead, but after that, Aziraphale had near on insisted that he drink at least one glass, and that Crowley had managed to stammer out during the evening, both before and after dinner, that he doesn’t drink, before breaking down and fleeing at Aziraphale’s continuous insistence.</p><p> </p><p>“I fucked up. Not just for me, but for Warlock too.” Crowley runs his hands through his hair, tugs, until Babylon makes him look at her.</p><p> </p><p>“You told him you don’t drink.” Crowley nods. “And he still pushed.” Another nod.</p><p> </p><p>“Then you’re not the one in the wrong, alright? Just ask Dagon when you go in for your next session. As for Warlock, if you’re too uncomfortable to go over there, I’ll bring the kid back and forth, alright?” Crowley looks like he wants to argue, for a second, but then he just deflates.</p><p> </p><p>“Aziraphale doesn’t know, though.”</p><p> </p><p>“Doesn’t matter. Nobody’s entitled to every little detail of your life. If you say no, it means no, doesn’t matter what the context is.” It’s been a long time since Babylon has seen her brother like this, and it worries her. She’s the one who occasionally breaks down. While Crowley has his moments, he’s never like this.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, Anthony. He seemed like a really nice man, and maybe he is, but I’m glad you stood up for yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know that it’s good but…” Crowley looks down in his lap. “I can’t shake the feeling that I screwed up, big time.”</p><p> </p><p>“If that was all it took, he’s not worth it.” Babylon tells him. It doesn’t make Crowley feel any better about it, because he’s honest to Somebody really attracted to Aziraphale, more than he’s ever been attracted to anyone, because it’s not just the looks, it’s what’s on the inside too. And it’s a lot of good on the inside, something that Crowley craves. Tonight had one mistake in it, and it had ruined everything. If Aziraphale had known… if Aziraphale had known, he might not have asked Crowley out anyways. Who would bother with someone so broken and fucked up?</p><p> </p><p>“I have too much baggage.” He just manages to not so as he curls into himself again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, I made an attempt, and now this is mature, I guess😂</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For the next few weeks, that once-a-week dinner is put on hold and Babylon is the one to bring Warlock over to the bookshop, or the one to answer the door when they come over to Mayfair, because Crowley is busy with work.</p><p> </p><p>Which is only half a lie. His students have begun turning their assignments in, so he does have a lot of reading and grading to do. It’s… it’s a convenient excuse. It gives Crowley time to calm down, and put things in perspective, to realize that; yes, he could have acted differently that night, but he wasn’t wrong. Nobody else has insisted when Crowley refused to drink at the few dates he attended, but then again, no one has been as infallibly polite as Aziraphale either. He’s most likely used to have to encourage his guests. </p><p> </p><p>Crowley still wishes he hadn’t. That evening could have ended nicely, maybe even promised a repeat, or several, which maybe, just maybe, could have ended in a relationship. That would have been amazing. Crowley wants it, <em>so so bad.</em></p><p> </p><p>He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, groaning. He can’t concentrate, he can’t think. He grabs his phone and dials a number.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, this is Anthony J. Crowley. Does Dagon have time for a session today? I, er, I could need the help.” He admits. He never calls and admits to something like this, and not long after the secretary has gone to ask Dagon if she has any spots, she returns and says she has a spot open at 5pm. Crowley shoots Babylon a text, asking her to pick up Warlock for him.</p><p> </p><p>When Babylon arrives to pick her nephew up at the bookshop, the boys are playing so nicely together that she agrees to wait for a bit. Aziraphale always goes about appearing rather nervous when she comes around, but never saying more than the polite “Hello” and “how are you’s”. Today, as he brings her Warlock’s backpack, it seems like he’s finally going to break the silence.</p><p> </p><p>“Um, Miss Crowley, can I ask you a question?” She knows what he wants to know, and she’s actually kind of glad he’s taking the initiative. Babylon is no mind-reader, but she knows that he knows that she and Crowley are very close. The only reason he should be that nervous is if he’s about to ask about her brother, and he is seriously worrying about overstepping.</p><p> </p><p>“You can call me Babylon, Mr. Fell. I’m not going to bite your head off. Ask away.” He still looks terribly nervous as she takes the backpack from him.</p><p> </p><p>“Crowley, er, I offended him in some way or another during our, er, date,” he flushes red at the word alone, “but I don’t quite understand how, and since he no longer brings Warlock over, or is ever at home when I bring Adam… is he so mad at me that he won’t even talk or look at me again?” And he looks so sad about it that Babylon actually feels bad for him. She was never really angry at the man (except for that hour her brother broke down in the living room), but she can understand that for Aziraphale, who doesn’t know about the trauma they have suffered, didn’t think he had been pushy at all. And no one can raise a kid to be so sweet without being a good person themselves, so she’s mostly forgiven him. Doubly so, now.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, I’m just going to tell you this; No, he’s not angry at you. It’s just, listen, you pushed him on something he is very uncomfortable with, and I know he hasn’t told you the reason for being uncomfortable with it, but that’s because it’s hard for him to talk about. But right now he’s working extra because of assignments he has to grade. Once he’s done with that, you two can talk without being interrupted or pressed for time, yeah? Just don’t push too hard, because it’s a heavy subject. Okay?” Aziraphale nods, appearing to feel a bit better.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m a protective younger sister, I admit.” She adds. “But I’m not going to yell at you for a mistake you made. And Anthony felt bad for running off too, you know. It was just a bit too much, he was a bit vulnerable. He hates feeling that, but I didn’t tell you that. I kinda think I’ve said too much, too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh dear, he shouldn’t, after all, <em>I </em>made the blunder.” The sweet bookshop owner says.</p><p> </p><p>“Just give him some time, Mr. Fell.” Babylon tells him kindly. “We carry a lot of baggage, so just… be careful, yeah?” The man nods. Babylon has nothing against him, because after getting over the fact that her brother had been a mess, she understood that it was an honest mistake. At least her sessions working with her temper is working. She should probably thank Ligur during their next session.</p><p> </p><p>Then Warlock comes over, and they leave. Babylon has the library marked in her calendar, so she hurries home with the boy, then heads back out. She’s almost at the campus library when she’s stopped by a brunette wearing heavy skirts and very thick glasses. Babylon has no idea who she is, but the woman seems like she wants something from her. It unnerves the blonde.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re Babylon, right?” Especially when the woman knows her name.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah? And you are?”</p><p> </p><p>“Anathema Device. I’m Aziraphale’s neighbour.” Babylon raises a brow, puzzled. The woman is American, that much is clear, but the accent and introduction tells Babylon nothing about what the woman wants from her.</p><p> </p><p>“Right, and?”</p><p> </p><p>“I just want to say that your brother and Aziraphale complement each other. Their aura’s are bright and warm when they’re together.” Babylon knows nothing about aura’s, but she can agree that her brother and Aziraphale fit well together. She hopes they can find the time to figure things out soon.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, sure, right.” She checks her phone. She’ll be late if she doesn’t hurry up. Eric won’t keep it against her, but she’d rather not waste any of their time.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, I’ve got-“</p><p> </p><p>“I have a plan to get them together.” The American steamrolls on. “They’re practically destined for each other.” Babylon stares, not quite sure she’s hearing right.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, uh, don’t-“</p><p> </p><p>“Just, please tell your brother to apologize, okay? Aziraphale was really upset when he just up and left, which is really rude, really.” Apologize, Babylon thinks. <em>Apologize?</em></p><p> </p><p>“My brother is the one who needs to apologize?” She demands quietly, feeling rage bubbling up in her, a slow burning flame gaining momentum, waiting to burst.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. I mean, he’s the one who ran out, and, he nearly made Aziraphale cry.” Anathema says, oblivious to Babylon’s twisting features. “Aziraphale said that he did something to make Crowley leave, but instead of being so damn dramatic about it, he should have just explained instead-“</p><p> </p><p>“Shut the fuck up before I break your jaw!” Babylon snaps and Anathema’s mouth snaps shut, eyes wide.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Excuse me?” </em>And she has the audacity to sound offended.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t know anything about my brother, you don’t know why he left that night, and surprise surprise, American, it’s none of your fucking business.” Babylon is positively seething with anger, and she has no intention of holding back either. Fuck Ligur’s calming techniques, fuck being calm.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m just trying to help. I have a plan-“</p><p> </p><p>“You can take your plan and shove it far up your own arse! This isn’t a fucking romcom where a heroine waltzes in and fixes everything just because she thinks she can.” Babylon marches on and nearly snarls in Anathema’s face.</p><p> </p><p>“Your <em>friend</em> kept pushing my brother into doing something he wasn’t comfortable with. If, not <em>when</em> but <em>if</em>-“ Babylon growls, knowing full well that it is the other way around, “my brother and Mr. Fell talk or even just <em>try</em> another date again, it’s because <em>they </em>want to, <em>not because you’ve come up with some inane plan to force them to do so! </em>I’m only going to say this once, so listen up: Fuck off, and respect other people’s right to privacy and choice.” Anathema seem speechless as Babylon pulls back, and the blonde thinks that that is that, and that they are done, but then the brunette rallies again.</p><p> </p><p>“But they are perfect for each other, you can see that too. If you could just tell me what it is that bothers your brother so much-“</p><p> </p><p>“It’s none of your business!” Babylon nearly yells. “Is it so bloody hard for you to understand something as simple as a person’s privacy? Stay out of it!”</p><p> </p><p>“Everything alright here?” Both women look up to see the man who had helped Babylon on her first day back. Him coming over is a stroke of luck, Babylon thinks, as she has been very close to losing her temper completely and give this nosy American something to really worry about. It’s a way out of this conversation with an entitled stranger who made Babylon’s day go from pleasant to shitty.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi, yeah, sorry I’m late.” Babylon says as she grabs his hand and begins pulling him along after giving Anathema one last withering glare, as if daring her to try and stop them from leaving. The nerve of some people.</p><p> </p><p>“I just got here myself?” The man says as he lets himself be dragged along. Once they round a corner and can no longer be seen, Babylon drops his hand quickly, putting some distance between them.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry.” She says, running a hand across her face in frustration, wanting to scream, but also not wanting to cause a scene, or in any way give the other woman an incentive to come check on them.</p><p> </p><p>“Not quite sure what you’re apologizing for here.” The man says, adjusting the strap of his bag over his shoulder. She gestures to the space between them.</p><p> </p><p>“Using you as an excuse, when I don’t even know you. Don’t even know your name.” She mumbles, embarrassed as that fact catches up to her.</p><p> </p><p>“My name is Bada, so now you know that, and I came over because you looked like you needed some assistance.” Babylon is pretty sure that this man is the nicest human being she’s ever met. Endlessly patient and kind. It is as annoying as it is endearing. Actually, it is slightly more endearing, she thinks as he grins at her. It is a cute grin.</p><p> </p><p>“While I have your attention, can I ask you something?” He looks a bit nervous now.</p><p> </p><p>“Hm?”</p><p> </p><p>“Can I invite you out sometime? For a coffee or something?” Babylon stares, her brain not quite making the connection before she stammers.</p><p> </p><p>“Er, yeah? Sure?” She’s awfully flustered, and she doesn’t quite know why. It’s not the first time she’s been asked out, and this is pretty harmless. It’s just a coffee. Maybe she’s flustered because she didn’t see it coming, and because this man has already seen her at a pretty low point. Perhaps it’s because he’s appeared to help her out when she needed it, and seen only the bad sides of her, and he still wants to get to know her. And that is just weird, because no one else has.</p><p> </p><p>“You alright?” He asks, bending down a bit to get a proper look at her because he is a bloody hulking titan and she is of average height, <em>barely.</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Yeah! Sorry, I was just surprised, coffee sounds good. Text me?” She rushes out as she fights to yank her phone out of her pocket. Why is her body and clothes not cooperating with her? Why is she suddenly losing all bloody control and making a fool of herself?</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t we just meet tomorrow after class?” Bada suggest and she nods, because being able to stop fumbling to get her phone out is a blessing right now.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure, we can, um, we can do that.” She checks her wristwatch and blurts out. “Oh shit, I’m late, so late, okay, yeah, tomorrow after class is over, sounds good, sorry, I have to go!” She exclaims before she runs, leaving Bada to wave awkwardly after her. In the library, Eric gives Babylon an unimpressed look, and she apologizes for being late as she pulls out her notes and books.</p><p> </p><p>Several hours later, she stumbles through the doors to her shared flat with Sara, who is standing in the kitchen, cleaning up after her dinner. Babylon throws out a greeting as she toes off her shoes and shuffles over to the sofa, just collapsing onto it with a groan, slinging her arm over her face. Sara appears in the doorway to the kitchen, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel and raising a brow.</p><p> </p><p>“Rough day?” She asks and Babylon answers with another groan, causing the brunette to chuckle as she heads back into the kitchen. Moments later she sets a glass down on the table, and sits on the edge of the sofa, beside Babylon, and gently removing the arm the blonde is hiding behind.</p><p> </p><p>“It was, and it kind of wasn’t.” The blonde says, and Sara tilts her head at her, silently encouraging her to elaborate on what she means.</p><p> </p><p>“When I picked up Warlock, I got to talk a bit with Mr. Fell, and I think that it’s all going to end well for Anthony. So that is a plus, and I’m happy for that. Then I ran into a friend of Mr. Fell, and she was pushy and nosy and wouldn’t take no for an answer, and it pissed me off.” Sara wrinkles her nose. “And then I got asked out?” At this, Sara brightens up.</p><p> </p><p>“You did?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, by Bada, the guy who helped me out when I had a panic attack.”</p><p> </p><p>“When?”</p><p> </p><p>“Tomorrow, after class.” Babylon tells her and Sara nods.</p><p> </p><p>“About tomorrow, I won’t be home to make dinner.” Babylon shifts, looking at Sara properly.</p><p> </p><p>“I got a date too.” At this, Babylon pulls herself up into a sitting position, very much interested in these news.</p><p> </p><p>“Is it Anna?” Babylon asks, and Sara nods. Anna isn’t someone new in Sara’s life, after all, the two have been meeting up several times and getting to know each other., and they have great chemistry. But it hasn’t been exclusive, not like they are a couple. They’ve never called their meetings for ‘dates’, before, so to hear Sara call it a date, it must mean something.</p><p> </p><p>“I told her about you and me, you know, a tiny aspect of our friendship, why it started and all that.” Sara says, looking a bit uncertain, but Babylon nods encouragingly, biting her lower lip.</p><p> </p><p>“She accepted that?” Sara nods.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. I told her a long time ago, really, and we weren’t exclusive back then, so she accepted it without batting an eye. I was surprised, pleasantly so. But she said that if we ever were to actually date, she’d want to know she was the only one.” Babylon nods again. It is understandable. After all, Babylon and Sara are great friends, they started out as normal friends when Babylon moved in with her brother, but they became friends with benefits a little over two years ago. That had been a terrifying conversation all on its own, if it wasn’t for Sara being so understanding and helpful with something Babylon had been so inexperienced and anxious about. So many factors to worry about, but open communication and ripping the root out of any anxious feeling before it had managed to manifest properly had made it a very comfortable and pleasant experience.</p><p> </p><p>“So that ends now, then.” Babylon imagined she’d feel a bit anxious and downtrodden by it, as she has always clung to every little bit of thing in her life and begged it not to change, but she only feels happy for Sara, who nods.</p><p> </p><p>“From the moment we get up tomorrow morning, yeah, our relationship is over, and I and Anna become a couple.” It’s the way Sara looks at her, and the wording she uses that makes Babylon smile a little.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not going to lie and say I won’t miss it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think I will too. Does that sound bad?” Sara asks, leaning closer.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think so. It’s just been part of our lives so long, and we enjoyed it and had fun, it’d be normal to miss it.” Babylon says, letting Sara’s lips press feather light against her own.</p><p> </p><p>“I think so too.” Sara says quietly before she presses more firmly.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m happy for you though. Anna seems like a really nice person.” Babylon says when Sara pulls back.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you. I’m glad you got asked out too. He might be a very nice man.” The blonde huffs a laugh, but stops when Sara’s hand cup her cheek and <em>looks</em> at her.</p><p> </p><p>“How do you feel, Babylon?” And the smile slides off of the blonde’s face as she thinks. It’s not about finding the answer Sara wants, it’s about finding the correct answer for Babylon herself, but it’s okay, because they have until they fall asleep. And Sara is offering.</p><p> </p><p>And Babylon wants it.</p><p> </p><p>“I want to be appreciated, I want to be doted on.” Sara nods. Sara is the only one Babylon has dared to be vulnerable with, but maybe that is because Sara was the start of it all, because Sara is the one who made her understand how important it is that she is vocal. The blonde has never managed to build the kind of trust with any other partner she’s had than she’s managed with Sara, because Sara has told her that there is nothing wrong with stating ones desires, and the way they approach the whole act is different than others have approached it with her. Like a means to an end.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll go get our stuff, you go get comfortable.” Sara says, rubbing her thumb over Babylon’s cheekbone for a moment before getting up, and Babylon follows suit, going towards her own room as Sara ducks into hers. She begins to undress, and by the time Sara enters, she’s fully in the nude on her bed. Sara says nothing, just smiles at her as she puts down the toys and lube on the bottom of the bed as she climbs in to lay down beside Babylon, who makes herself comfortable too. There are no words for a while, they just shift a bit closer and lie there quietly for a while, before Sara initiates it. She lets her hand caress Babylon’s cheek before reaching further to run through her hair a couple of times before she kisses the other woman. Babylon melts into it, lets her own arm wrap around Sara’s waist as the brunette’s hand moves from her hair and down her back, brushing her fingertips featherlight over her skin.</p><p> </p><p>Sara is never in any hurry, unless they plan on it to be quick and frenzied. Babylon appreciates that, in many ways. She likes enjoying her partner and being enjoyed in turn, so it’s neither a surprise nor a turn-off that Sara takes her time with kissing Babylon and just caressing her before she turns the blonde onto her back and presses more firmly into her, her roaming hand starting to press more firmly in their caress, lips moving a firm path from mouth, to jaw, to chin, to throat and down her chest, and Babylon’s hands tangle in the brunette’s hair, a silent plead to keep going. And she does, one hand finding a nipple while her mouth finds the other, and Babylon moans loudly, arching up into the sensations.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you know what I thought we could do? Hm?” Sara’s breath ghosts across the blonde’s skin as she speaks, lifting her head as one of her hands move down to rub at Babylon’s inner thigh, making the woman spread them unconsciously.</p><p> </p><p>“No?” There are so many things Sara might have come up with in the short timespan they were apart, and Babylon can honestly say she’s excited about each and every option that pops into her head as Sara grins against her chin, nipping at it teasingly.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve decided you need to come at least three times.” Babylon’s breath hitches at that. “Once by fingers, twice on my cock. How about that?” The brunette asks as her fingers dip down to run up and down Babylon’s folds, a teasing dip every now and then. She hums an answer, and nods.</p><p> </p><p>“Use your words.” Sara says and Babylon does as told. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes. A hundred times <em>yes!</em>” Her voice cracks as Sara presses to her clit.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad you find it agreeable.” And then she’s kissing Babylon again, and the blonde wraps her arms around the other woman, holding her close as she dips her fingers into her and begins stretching her, telling her how good she’s being, how sweet she sounds, before the brunette is pushing herself up into a kneeling position and gently guides Babylon’s own hand down.</p><p> </p><p>“Touch yourself for me.” Babylon obeys, opening eyes she didn’t even know she had closed and watches as Sara grabs the harness of her strap-on and fits it around herself, adjusting it to sit properly against her and just the thought of what’ll happen next, coupled with the spot she hits, makes Babylon throw her head back with a gasp. She’s too worked up!</p><p> </p><p>“Sara, Sara I’m going to-“ She whines, pulling her legs up and forcing herself to stop moving, which takes an enormous amount of effort, but then Sara is there, her hand over Babylon’s as she encourages her to continue, and it doesn’t take much before the blonde gives in, despite her verbal protests.</p><p> </p><p>“But-but-“</p><p> </p><p>“Ah didnae say ah wantit tae be mah haun.” Sara reminds the blonde, who gasps and shudders as her orgasm hits her, and Sara helps her ride through it with a smug smile on her face. Babylon lies there in her afterglow, catching her own breath and feeling Sara rubbing the tops of her thighs soothingly as she comes back down to earth.</p><p> </p><p>“Your fucking accent.” Sara laughs before flopping down beside Babylon, grinning mischievously at her.</p><p> </p><p>“Up you get, unless you can’t feel your legs, that is.” The brunette teases and Babylon gives her a shove before shakily pushing herself up and awkwardly straddling Sara, appearing a bit shaky on her legs as she leans forward to balance herself, Sara’s hands on her hips as she helps her lower herself down over the dildo.</p><p> </p><p>“Take your time, sweetling, there’s no rush.” She soothes, and Babylon huffs out what sounds like a mix between a laugh and a moan as she lowers herself down.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe not for you.” But she listens anyways, knows that Sara won’t be happy if Babylon manages to hurt herself in some way or another. So she lowers herself down slowly, lets Sara rub the upper part of her thighs as she adjusts to the stretch, listens to her praise her and it’s all rather lovely. And then she starts rocking, and while it feels amazing to her, she glances down and watches Sara.</p><p> </p><p>“This position doesn’t do much for you.” Babylon breathes, but not halting her movements at all.  </p><p> </p><p>“We have talked about this how many times now? Just watching you like this is doing a whole lot for me.” Babylon knows, she just likes hearing it too, to be assured that her partner feels pleasure too. It’s that tiny nugget of anxiety that sometimes won’t let go, no matter what. Sara knows, she understands, so she just tells Babylon how lovely she is like this, tells her to take all that she needs, to go as fast and hard as she wants, because she deserves it, because she is good, so <em>so </em>good. With a cry Babylon falls forward and Sara meets her, kissing her as the blonde moves more frantically, hands roving up and down her back, squeezing her hips and urging her to move faster.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s it, that’s it, c’moan, lass.” Babylon nearly collapses over Sara, but manages to flop sideways before she crushes the other woman. Sara’s voice sounds a bit far away, but the touch on Babylon’s shoulder tells her that she is there.</p><p> </p><p>“Just a moment.” She mumbles, sighing.</p><p> </p><p>“You okay to keep going?” Sara asks after a minute has passed and Babylon nods, moving her arms under herself to push up and look at her partner, grinning smugly despite feeling like mush.</p><p> </p><p>“You promised me three.” Sara grins back, happy to know that Babylon is still willing to continue.</p><p> </p><p>“That I did. How do you want it?” Babylon grabs one of her pillows and pushes it under her hips.</p><p> </p><p>“Like this. I want you to hold me close.” Sara nods, moving to kneel between Babylon’s spread legs and carefully sinks in again, then she lays down flat over Babylon’s back and wraps one of her arms around the other woman while the other she uses to brace herself.</p><p> </p><p>“This alright?” She asks and Babylon nods, tilting her head to the side so that Sara can place a kiss to her neck before she begins to move. Sara, who’ve been so calm and confident through the whole act now shudders behind Babylon as she rocks against the other woman. It’s slow, and Babylon feels very cared for as Sara tells her how bloody good she feels, feels Sara press herself tightly to her as she rocks harder into her.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck, yer feelin’ sae guid, always sae guid fur me, <em>fuck</em>.” Sara gasps, forehead pressed between the blonde’s shoulder blades as she chases her pleasure.</p><p> </p><p>“Y-you too, shit, right there, <em>right there</em>.” Babylon pushes back as much as she can as Sara grinds against her, so close to the edge, but Sara is the one who tips over the edge first, crying out against the blonde’s shoulder as she’s swept away by the pleasure. Babylon follows suit the moment Sara gets her bearings enough to wiggle her hand from the blonde’s chest to her clit. Sara’s weight is heavy on her back, but Babylon relishes it as she come down from her afterglow, and Sara presses a few kisses to her shoulders and cheek before she pulls off, and removes the harness moments before she lays down again, facing Babylon who’s resting her chin on her crossed arms.</p><p> </p><p>“Not bad.” Babylon says once she gets her breath back and Sara chuckles.</p><p> </p><p>“For a ‘<em>break up</em>’ shag?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Babylon reaches out and takes Sara’s hand in her own, squeezing it. “I am happy for you, though.” She says sincerely and Sara squeezes back.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Just give me a heads up when you’re up to sexy times, you make people so loud and I don’t need to hear that.” The blonde jokes, causing her friend to snort.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh shut it, lass.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Coming up a day early, since I'll be busy the entire day tomorrow</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale is absolutely delighted to see that he has a text notification from Crowley a couple of days later. Especially so when it says that the redhead is inviting him and Adam over for dinner again. Oh, he has missed those dinners, Crowley’s an excellent cook, and there’s just something very pleasing and domestic to eat together, their two little families as one. It is a very pleasant thing, wholesome.</p><p> </p><p>And Adam, Adam has missed it too, has even asked about when they’ll do it again several times, and Aziraphale has not had a real answer to give him, before Babylon had shared that little bit of insight a few days ago. Which he is very grateful for. It had given him hope that he might remedy his blunder. He knows what he did now, he just doesn’t know why Crowley reacted so violently, only that there is a sound reason for it. Aziraphale just hopes that he might prove himself worthy of being trusted with the sensitive truth. And a second chance.</p><p> </p><p>With all these thoughts swirling about in his head. He tells Adam to get ready for dinner at the Crowley’s. The way the boy lights up like the sun itself and sprints to his room is heart-warming, and Aziraphale wonders if, perhaps, Crowley will feel safer and more comfortable with telling his story if the blonde shares a piece of his own story. The truth about why he has Adam. It might help, he thinks, so he decides to do just that, if the opportunity presents itself. It’s not a hardship, it’s not quite a delicate matter, not at all, but it is sharing, and sharing might mean getting to know each other better. And that’s the reason it all went down badly the last time, because there is delicate things they do not know about each other, and because of that there were boundaries that Aziraphale pushed when he shouldn’t have.</p><p> </p><p>He truly wants to know Crowley. So with a thundering heart, he knocks on the door to Crowley’s Mayfair flat. Warlock opens, appearing just as excited as Adam, and nearly yanks the boy through the door, Aziraphale pottering after them. It smells heavenly, whatever it is that Crowley’s cooking, and the blonde man’s stomach rumbles in response. He blushes, silently scolding himself. But it fades away quickly when Crowley pokes his head out of the kitchen, a small, hesitant smile on his face. Aziraphale positively beams back at him, trying to convey through this one smile how incredibly grateful and happy he is that Crowley invited them over. It seems to work.</p><p> </p><p>Dinner is a delightful affair, the boys doing most of the talking. It’s endearing, and it sets a really domestic mood. It’s when the adults are doing the dishes that Aziraphale speaks up.</p><p> </p><p>“Adam is a child I adopted.” That is very clear, something established early on in their friendship, but it’s as good a start as any, and Crowley listens, handing Aziraphale a plate to dry.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve done that since I was in my middle twenties. I am a trust fund child, that is what they call it now-a-days, right? All I’ve ever wanted was to help people in need. So I’ve adopted and raised and helped several children and teens who’ve been in tough situations and needed a loving home. It’s what I like to do, aside from acquiring first edition classics, of course.” Aziraphale adds, for a bit of humour.</p><p> </p><p>“My mother didn’t accept me being gay, but my father never made it into an issue, my brother and cousin did as well and treat me like they always have. And I know that a lot of people have never been anywhere as lucky as I have been, so with the help of my brother and cousin, Gabriel and Michael, I have been able to aid those who need it. Adam will most likely be the last child I’ll ever raise, though, but I plan on being someone people can come to for help a lot longer, for as long as I am able.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds nice.” Crowley says. “Lots of kids don’t get the care they need.” He hands over the final saucepan and turns around, making sure Warlock and Adam are out of earshot before he crosses his arms across his chest tightly and speaks up, seemingly very uncomfortable, but speaking nonetheless. Aziraphale gives him his undivided attention.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t drink. Ever.” He lets that sink in as he fixes the blonde with his gaze for a few moments before looking down at his feet. “Me and Babs dad, he was an alcoholic, and a violent one too, in more ways than one. I won’t ever risk becoming like him, and it can be genetic so… I don’t drink, yeah.” And suddenly it all makes so much sense, and Aziraphale feels like an utter fool.</p><p> </p><p>“And I pushed you, and I triggered you.” The blonde says, causing Crowley to shrug.</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t know. Very few do… it’s not exactly a conversation opener.” Aziraphale nods. He can understand that. But he’s also so glad Crowley felt like he could tell him, he feels honoured to be given this much trust.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m very sorry our evening ended so badly. I enjoyed myself.” He admits.</p><p> </p><p>“I did too.” Crowley says, chancing a glance at Aziraphale, finally, and this time keeping up the eye-contact. “We could… We could give it another go, if you want that?” And he looks so hopeful, so endearing, that Aziraphale cannot do much else than say yes. Not that he’d ever want to refuse.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d very much want that.” He says quietly and Crowley gives a small smile, vulnerable in its way of showing how relieved he is. Probably as relieved as Aziraphale feels right now.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe we could just take a walk together? Get to know each other better without all that dramatic fanfare? And if you need time to yourself, you just tell me, alright?” Aziraphale suggests. It’s a safer thing, even if Aziraphale now knows to avoid alcohol. He can glean enough out of Crowley’s story about having a violent alcoholic father to understand that it might not just be alcohol that is the problem.</p><p> </p><p><em>‘Violent in more ways than one.’</em> Aziraphale thinks. Had he been violent with Crowley? With Babylon? What underlying trauma has the two been left with?</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds nice.” They decide to start with that. Just simple walks, days or evenings when they can talk while the children are either out or asleep. Just… talking. Nothing has sounded more terrifying to Crowley, or more appealing.</p><p> </p><p>He tells Dagon so during their next session. Dagon tells him that he’s doing great, that he just has to make sure to take care of himself while he does this, to respect his own boundaries. It sounds like a hard task, but when they meet up, Aziraphale is so understanding and caring and Crowley just feels himself falling and falling and falling. Falling for an angel.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Double update because I need things to stack up right until Christmas, sorry not sorry</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Professor Crowley!” A voice calls out as Crowley stops outside his office, fishing his keys out of his pocket. He’s riding on the waves of happiness by the memories of the day before, which had been absolutely lovely. A date that had not been cancelled on his part because of any lingering anxiety or generally feeling unwell. He’s going to ride this wave for as long as he can, and thinks it’ll be fine too, considering that he’s more used to this now. Aziraphale is turning out to be someone his brain deems safe.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes?” He answers as he unlocks the door, and looks up to see Newt heading down the hall towards him, awkward as ever, with a lady friend.</p><p> </p><p>“Can you help a bit with this part of the assignment? I’m not entirely sure how to answer the question.” Crowley nods as he enters his office, gesturing for the two to follow him.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure, Pulsifer.” As Newt begins describing where he’s having trouble, his friend goes about inspecting Crowley’s office. He ignores her, as she’s just a curious tag-along after all. The redhead helps his student, and it doesn’t take long before they reach an understanding. Unlucky with technology and awkward as all hell the boy might be, but he is bright too. Just as he thanks Crowley for clearing up the confusion, the tag-along speaks up.</p><p> </p><p>“I hope you’re not leading Aziraphale on.” Her voice carries in the room, nearly echoing. Newt looks like he’s about to freak out when the words register, and Crowley frowns behind his shades. Where, exactly, did this come from? He’s pretty sure he and Aziraphale are getting along just perfectly.</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me?” He challenges, but the girl looks straight at him without flinching.</p><p> </p><p>“Anathema-“ Newt begins but the girl bulldozes on.</p><p> </p><p>“I said, I hope you’re not leading Aziraphale on.” She stands with a straight back, and despite being shorter than Crowley, she tilts her head in a way that makes the man think she’s looking down her nose at him behind her thick glasses. He doesn’t particularly like it, nor her accusations, and he’s about to tell her so, when she continues.</p><p> </p><p>“Going back and forth like you are, cancelling dates for no good reason and then suddenly coming back to it like you believe he’s waiting at your every beck and call. He deserves better.” And that’s something that strikes a chord in Crowley’s chest. <em>Aziraphale deserves better.</em> And Crowley agrees. Aziraphale is amazing, kind, loving, warm, charming and like the bloody sun. He is everything Crowley could ever want, anything Crowley could ever need and hope and wish for. He deserves everything he can have, and more than that, even. He deserves the best.</p><p> </p><p>Better than broken, anxiety riddled Crowley.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Anathema</em>!” Newt hisses with more force than Crowley has ever heard the boy speak with before. “You <em>promised!</em>” But the American girl ignores him and keeps her glare on the redhead. She expects an answer from him, and while anyone probably would have defended themselves or talked back, Crowley finds himself unable to. Because what can he say? She’s already made up her mind, and she’s right about one thing. And it shatters him to agree with her.  </p><p> </p><p>“Get out.” He croaks, barely loud enough for the two to hear. The girl rolls her eyes, as if she hasn’t ruined Crowley’s entire day, week, month, and speaks again in a harder tone.</p><p> </p><p>“I just need-“ Anathema begins, but Crowley interrupts her. He doesn’t care what she needs, he doesn’t want to know what she needs.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Get out!” </em>He very nearly snarls, and Newt pushes the shocked woman out the door.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m really sorry, Professor Crowley!” He says as he closes the door behind them. If Crowley had been paying attention, he would have heard the heated argument following on the other side his office door, but as it is, Crowley is busy experiencing the floor falling out from under him. Aziraphale deserves better, the woman had said. Aziraphale deserves better.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley agrees.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Ligur watches Babylon patiently. She’s been fuming since she walked into his office, and he wonders what caused this. Lots of things could have happened between their last session and now, but they’re not getting anywhere without Babylon opening up about it. And knowing Babylon, it might have been something that happened quite some time ago but suddenly popped up in her mind and ruined her good mood.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s on your mind?” He asks, and she looks at him, instead of her rapidly whitening knuckles which she’s been fisting in her lap to the point they were nearly shaking.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m a bit miffed.” She shrugs, and her therapist thinks that it sounds like the greatest under exaggeration he’s ever heard. Babylon is never miffed, she is either somewhat calm or pissed off enough to set fire to a church. She is working for a middle ground, but it’s a slow process.</p><p> </p><p>“I can see that.” Ligur nods, fighting a smile. “Want to tell me what’s got you so worked up?” She seems to be battling with herself before grumbling. The whole reason for these sessions are for her to talk about things, even those she can process for herself. It works.</p><p> </p><p>“A nosy American.” Ligur raises a brow, silently urging her to continue.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony went on a date some time ago. The man accidentally triggered him, and it didn’t end well, but they’ve talked it out now, it’s all good now, and they’re trying again.” There are many ways that this can bother Babylon as well as make her happy. They are the same thing like the word ‘chuffed’, which is also something that annoys her a great deal, words that means two opposite things, but now he’s getting off track.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you mad at that person? For having accidentally triggered your brother?” If there is one thing Ligur could conclude with absolute certainty after their first session when Babylon was a teen, it was that she was fiercely protective of her older brother.</p><p> </p><p>“At first, yeah, wanted to toss him into the Thames with a bag of rocks tied to his legs,” and Ligur wonders for a moment if they should restart the conversations about her off-handedly stating she wants to murder someone again, “but then I realized he didn’t understand what happened, but wanted to know so he could avoid doing it again. And they’re talking, and Anthony seem so happy, I can’t ever remember ever seeing him so happy.” She looks wistful, like it’s something she wants for herself too, as well as hoping it will last for her brother. Alright, not restarting the conversation about her tendencies to speak of murder. It’s just an expression, after all.</p><p> </p><p>“So, who’s the nosy American?” And in an instant ,Babylon’s expression morphs from that of wistfulness to anger.</p><p> </p><p>“Aziraphale’s neighbour, that’s his name by the way, a student at the same university as me. She came up in my face, knowing absolutely <em>nothing </em>about the situation, and told <em>me</em> to tell <em>my brother </em>to apologize, because she was absolutely sure my brother was the one at fault. Because he was the one who left when he was triggered. Everyone always assume it’s his fault, and I cannot stand it!” It’s understandable that this pisses her off, Ligur thinks as he makes quick notes.</p><p> </p><p>“I mean, I know she knows nothing about Anthony and I, but the way people just fucking assume shit pisses me off. And even when I said to leave it alone and to respect our personal space and privacy and all that shit, she just kept on pushing, practically demanded that I tell her why Anthony reacted the way he did, like she was bloody privy to his situation for her <em>grand plan</em> to bring them together. I mean, who the fuck does she think she is?” Ligur nods along.</p><p> </p><p>“That is a problem, yes. People assuming when they don’t know jack shit, but you can’t let them get to you. You’re entitled to your privacy, yes, you’re allowed to tell them to ‘fuck off’, for the lack of a better term.” Babylon nods, breathing in deep. She knows he’s right, but sometimes (most times) she just get so angry. And she’s working on that, but it’s hard. Years in therapy, and she still struggle with a lot of pent up anger. Anthony did his best with her, and she’s failing-</p><p> </p><p>She pinches her own hand, hard. No thoughts like that.</p><p> </p><p>“Something good happened this week too, though.” She says, and Ligur crosses his legs and leans forward.</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me more.” She snorts.</p><p> </p><p>“Stop acting like a gossip-loving teenage bitch.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bold of you to assume I’m not a gossip-loving teenage bitch at heart.” Ligur is funny, but he’s also good at his job. He makes his patients feel at ease (despite his somewhat scary demeanour), he listens and works with them. It’s world’s different from Uriel, who pushed her own agenda instead of working for the sake of her patients. Is Babylon a bad person for feeling personal glee when it showed, after some investigation, that she had several patients who felt pressured to do things they didn’t actually want when seeing her, and as such her license was revoked? Nah. She felt bad for those people, but she loved watching Uriel’s reputation falling apart.</p><p> </p><p>“So, I was asked out the other day, or rather, yesterday- right, I was on a date yesterday?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Oooh.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“I will punch you.” She glares at him, before continuing. “It went well, seems like a nice bloke. He asked if I wanted a repeated, and I said yes. He’s not the over-the-top kind of guy, and I like that. He’s pretty calm, down to earth, he’s not trying to impress me, he’s just being himself.” Well, that little monologue sounded like she was all over the place, didn’t it?</p><p> </p><p>“A nice bloke, huh. I’m happy for you, Babylon.” And he means it, that’s what makes Babylon feel better about it all.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, well-“ Babylon begins, but cuts herself off before she shrugs. “We’ll see how it goes.” Ligur nods.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll figure it out together.” She smiles. That sounds rather nice.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sorry, not sorry</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale thinks nothing of it when Crowley cancels their St. James Park-date later that week. Something must have come up, the blonde believes, and it’s perfectly normal that something planned might be postponed, moved or cancelled every once in a while. Crowley might be feeling overwhelmed, or he might have a lot of work, or something is going on with either Warlock or Babylon and they need some family time together, it’s happened before and Aziraphale understands. It’s when it happens again and again, however, that Aziraphale finds it a bit worrisome. Especially since Crowley offers no explanation and doesn’t answer when Aziraphale attempts to ring him. Even more so when he doesn’t see the man when he picks up Warlock from school, the redhead being so quick he misses him entirely.</p><p> </p><p>Something must have happened, but Aziraphale doesn’t know what. They parted on such a good note the last time, so it can’t be something that Aziraphale did. But he worries nonetheless. Something must be wrong, and Aziraphale desperately wish to be there for him. But he fears he’ll be intruding. It might not be welcome, but he can send a text, offering support, so he does just that.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>My dear Crowley, I hope you’re alright and no matter what has happened, I hope you know that I am here for you, no matter what you need.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Yours, Aziraphale.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>There’s no response, not at all for many days, and before he knows it, two weeks have passed. His misery must show, because Anathema seem very worried when she visits his shop to pick up Newt from his shift.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, it’s, well.” Aziraphale finds it hard to find the words when she asks him what’s wrong.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s just that Crowley has avoided my calls and left my text messages unanswered. I haven’t heard from him in two weeks.” Anathema’s expression turns sympathetic.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, Aziraphale, I truly am. Maybe he’s not the right person after all. I’m sorry I pushed you on the subject.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, but I know he is and, well, we got along so well, and we parted on very happy terms when we last met.” Crowley had been such a gentleman, in his awkward but still suave way which is so uniquely Crowley, even kissing the top of Aziraphale’s hand while keeping eye contact, it was such a lovely and intimate act, before he went home. It had been such a splendid day.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe, but you don’t deserve to be left hanging like this. He cancelled on you way too often too, and now he’s ignoring you. You don’t deserve that.” And Anathema is right, Aziraphale thinks with indignation. The few times he cancelled before, he at least gave him a reason and that was fine, they were valid reasons, but this time there is radio silence, so to speak. The very least Crowley could have done is answer just one of his texts.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe something did happen.” Anathema continues. “But unless it’s something along the lines of family death or emergency, he could have called.” Newt appears then, and the two take their leave. Once they’re outside the shop and out of earshot, Newt glances at Anathema as they wait for the light to switch to green.</p><p> </p><p>“Did you tell him that you talked with Professor Crowley?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why would I?” She seems honestly perplexed by the question and Newt feels annoyance rise up in him. Which is kind of incredible because he’s never annoyed or angry with Anathema because, well, he’s bloody besotted with her and he’s damn lucky she even looks at him. But not now.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t you think that It’s weird that he began avoiding Mr. Fell <em>after </em>you said what you said?” The young man says, a brow raised. He’s been a bit snappy around Anathema lately, and she’s finding it rather tiresome.</p><p> </p><p>“If he stopped after I called him out, then I’m not wrong. Aziraphale deserves better.” She says with no small amount of certainty.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t even know Professor Crowley.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want to either. What little I do know tells me I was right.” Newt gives her a dubious look, which surprises her.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not the villain here!”</p><p> </p><p>“Actually.” Newt says and looks up just as the light turns green. “This time, I’m pretty sure you are. Sorry, I don’t have time today, I’ve got studying to do.” And with that he leaves her there on the sidewalk, stunned speechless.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It’s late when Aziraphale finds himself in the elevator in Crowley’s building. He’s been thinking of what to say to Crowley ever since his talk with Anathema, and he’s come to the decision that it’s best to be quick about it, and clear. Like ripping off a band aid. End this dating that Crowley clearly doesn’t want to continue, and just be friends. Or acquaintances. Aziraphale is quite hurt by that, but he can be an adult about it. After all, Warlock and Adam shouldn’t be affected by this folly. This is the fault of the adults.</p><p> </p><p>With this in mind, he squares his shoulders as the elevator doors opens, and he resolutely walks down the hallway and knocks on the door, his speech playing out in his head. He is ready, he thinks.</p><p> </p><p>Except he’s not.</p><p> </p><p>When Crowley opens the door, the first thing Aziraphale notices is how pale the man is (and how he grows paler still at the sight of the blonde), the red rimmed eyes not hiding behind dark shades and the dark bags beneath them, and how utterly exhausted he appears. Aziraphale had not expected this image to greet him.</p><p> </p><p>Naturally he grows worried again.</p><p> </p><p>“Crowley! What on earth has happened?” And the way the redhead shrivels in on himself makes the worry grow even more. The redhead mumbles something unintelligible.</p><p> </p><p>“May I come in?” Crowley hesitates for a moment before bracing himself and stepping aside. Once the door is closed, Aziraphale moves towards Crowley, and feels the harsh sting of rejection when Crowley shrinks away. The redhead likes touch more than words, so to be denied giving that comforting touch when he so visibly needs it is painful.</p><p> </p><p>“Crowley, darling, what’s wrong?” There’s a long silence before Crowley speaks in a very quiet voice.</p><p> </p><p>“We should stop seeing each other.” Aziraphale feels like he’s been punched in the gut, despite the fact that he came over solely to do the same as Crowley just did: to end their budding relationship. But Aziraphale suddenly finds himself unable to let go, especially when Crowley look so miserable, even worse now after having said the words out loud.</p><p> </p><p>“Why do you say that, my dear?” Crowley looks away, as if the endearment is like a visibly painful blow. “Please, Crowley, what makes you say that? Did I do something to make you uncomfortable again?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>No!”</em> Crowley exclaims, then catches himself, casting his eyes to the side. “No, you didn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then what makes you want to end it? And what’s happened to make you so miserable?” The redhead doesn’t answer at first, so Aziraphale, after a few moments of silence and a sinking feeling in his stomach, fidgets.</p><p> </p><p>“I <em>did</em> do something, didn’t I? Please tell me, Crowley, what did I do, and how can I atone for my folly?”</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t do anything, Aziraphale.” Crowley says as his shoulders slump in defeat. “You’re perfect, as usual. You didn’t do anything.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m hardly perfect.” Aziraphale cannot help but chide, relieved to know he’s not the cause. Crowley would tell him if he was, after all. He trusts that, despite having asked a second time just to make sure when the other man had offered no explanation to the contrary.</p><p> </p><p>“You are.” The other man says, crossing his arms across his chest. “And you deserve better.”</p><p> </p><p>“Better?” It’s the way that Crowley says it, the way he doesn’t look Aziraphale in the eye as he says it too, that makes Aziraphale feel uncomfortable, and he feels cold. It’s just… wrong.</p><p> </p><p>“Better than me.” The redhead specifies, still not looking at him, but his shoulders slump forward in defeat and he looks so small.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re practically an angel, with all that you’ve done, how you are, and I’m a fucking mess and don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing most of the time. I’m insecure, I don’t know how relationships work, I’m shit at feelings, sometimes I break down and don’t function-“ He cuts himself off, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, inhaling a deep breath before finally looking at Aziraphale, looking well and utterly exhausted, and not in a good way.</p><p> </p><p>“You deserve better than me.” Aziraphale doesn’t know where this came from, what caused it, but he thinks Crowley is so utterly, horribly wrong.</p><p> </p><p>“Crowley, darling, <em>no.” </em>He says with such a firm tone the redhead blinks at him.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve already shared so much, I know some of your struggles, and I don’t care. Well, of course I care that some days are hard for you, but not in the sense that I feel you are a bother. Far from it, my darling. I <em>want</em> to be there for you, to be a support when you need it, to have someone you can lean on when you need it. I, I <em>adore</em> you, Crowley, each and every aspect of you. And I want to be someone who can chase your insecurities away, so please don’t shut me out. You’re all- you’re all I could ever want.” Crowley stares, then there’s a sniffle, and when Aziraphale next takes a step forward, Crowley falls into him, clinging like a lost child as he tries not to cry.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“I-I’m sorry.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Hush now, it’s alright. We’ll figure all of this out, my dear boy.” The blonde assures him, rubbing a hand up and down the other man’s back in a soothing gesture.</p><p> </p><p>“E-everything was amazing, and I’ve been really, really happy when I’m with you, but then that friend of one of my students said I didn’t deserve you, and everything came, came crashing down and I-I couldn’t <em>stop it</em>.” Aziraphale leads Crowley over to the sofa and they sit, still embracing each other.</p><p> </p><p>“Whyever would their words mean anything? It is my and your opinion that matters, not theirs.” He says gently.</p><p> </p><p>“S-she knew you, said all the back and forth was me leading you on, but I swear, I’m not, angel, <em>I’m not!</em>” Aziraphale shushes him gently and smiles reassuringly even as he feels slight dread pool in his stomach yet again. There is only one person he can think of.</p><p> </p><p>“She? Is she American, by any chance?” Crowley nods, and Aziraphale takes a deep breath, feeling anger simmer beneath his skin, but supresses it. Later, he thinks darkly. Growing angry now, with such a vulnerable man in his arms will do nothing but cause more damage. Crowley’s mind is fragile right now, if Aziraphale becomes angry, the man will think that the blonde is angry because of him, and not for what was unfairly said to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry, Crowley. As I said, it’s my and your opinion that matters, and I want to be with you. For relationships, I’ll have you know that no relationship is alike, we’ll be figuring that one out together, alright?” Crowley nods, settling firmer into Aziraphale’s side, and the blonde runs a hand through the younger man’s hair. He is a right mess, and considering how anxious a person Crowley is, and his issues with his own self-esteem, no wonder he just disappeared. He probably thought he was doing Aziraphale a favour.</p><p> </p><p><em>‘The poor thing.’ </em>He thinks. All that bravado on the outside, but so brittle on the inside. Aziraphale should have known better than to think that Crowley had started to ignore him just because he didn’t want a relationship anymore. He’s not that kind of man. The blonde feels wretched.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s going to be okay, my dear.” He promises, pressing a kiss to Crowley’s temple. The man freezes in his seat, and Aziraphale feels like a fool. Too fast for the poor dear, he thinks, but then Crowley’s hands fist in the material of Aziraphale’s sweater, and he glances up, honey-coloured eyes so vulnerable and pleading, so Aziraphale places another kiss, this time on his forehead. The younger man curls fully into Aziraphale’s side, relaxing completely and the blonde is happy for it, tightening his hold. They spend the rest of Aziraphale’s stay like this, until the hour grows truly late, and Aziraphale’s brother calls and says he can’t watch over Adam any longer, though the boy is asleep. Crowley seem loathe to let him go, but keeps his words to himself.</p><p> </p><p>“Crowley.” Aziraphale says the moment he’s about to open the door to let himself out. “If you need me, know that you can ring me at any time, if you ever feel anxious or need to ascertain something, you can talk to me, alright?”</p><p> </p><p>“Even if you say that, it’ll take time before I’m able to actually… do that.” The redhead seems to regret his words as they fade out, but Aziraphale smiles.</p><p> </p><p>“Then I’ll keep on reminding you until your brain believes me.” He says and Crowley can’t help but crack a smile.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale had been kept up almost the whole night wondering how to deal with Anathema, that by the time his alarm rings the next morning, he’s utterly exhausted. Even Adam notices, though he doesn’t make a spectacle out of it, thankfully. Aziraphale knows that Anathema is just looking out for him, but at the same time, there is a limit for how much you shall intrude into another person’s personal life. And Anathema has well and truly crossed the line, she did so miles ago. Aziraphale is very thankful that she cares, but her nosiness almost cost him someone dear to his heart, and he cannot have that.</p><p> </p><p>He’s an adult, and perfectly capable of taking care of himself and make his own decisions. What worries him is the anger he had felt boil his blood when Crowley, so miserable and vulnerable and self-sacrificing, told him what Anathema had insinuated. She doesn’t know much about Crowley, so she shouldn’t go around assuming. But at the same time, she couldn’t have known that Crowley would react the way he did. She couldn’t have known that her words would send him into a spiral of self-doubt and thinking he’s not worth that companionship he had within his grasp.</p><p> </p><p>But that is no excuse for what she has done. And that she had the audacity to sympathize with Aziraphale, when it was her fault that Crowley began avoiding him in the first place! And that’s just, well, Aziraphale can’t quite find the words right now, but he’ll give the young woman a stern talking to. The bell above the shop’s door rings, and speak of the devil, the occultists voice echoes.</p><p> </p><p>“Aziraphale?” Said man takes a deep breath before answering.</p><p> </p><p>“In the back, Anathema.” He can hear the steps closing in and from the corner of his eyes he sees her enter the backroom. She pauses at the sight of him.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you alright?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” He replies. “I am not. I went to see Crowley last night.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Aziraphale.” She looks so sorry for him, but that might be because of his appearance, how she interprets his words and her view of Crowley combined. “I’m sorry, what did he do?” And that’s what makes Aziraphale snap. For no reason at all, Anathema is judging Crowley, blaming him for everything.</p><p> </p><p>“Crowley has done <em>absolutely nothing</em>!” He snaps and Anathema blinks.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright? I’m sorry.” She says, frowning. She’s confused, he can see that, but he’s about to clear it up for her.</p><p> </p><p>“When I went to see him last night, he very nearly broke up with me.” Anathema’s face goes through a series of expressions before it lands on a scowl, and she opens her mouth, most likely to say something scathing about the redhead, but the blonde beats her to it.</p><p> </p><p>“Because <em>someone</em> said that he didn’t deserve me.” He adds, and she frowns in confusion again before it suddenly dawns on her. She has the audacity to look sheepish.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>“What were you <em>thinking</em>, Anathema?”</p><p> </p><p>“I, well, I was worried because he cancelled too often on you, and you never asked him the reasons why he did. And I thought that it wasn’t fair to you, so I thought maybe he was stringing you along and I didn’t like that, so I asked him. But that’s <em>all</em> I did, Aziraphale, all I did was ask.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t even know him!” Aziraphale exclaims. “You have no idea how he interpreted a stranger coming up and saying he didn’t deserve me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I just asked!” Anathema defends herself. “I get that I overstepped, and I’m sorry for that, but he obviously overreacted. I just said that you deserved better than to be played with.” Aziraphale knows painfully well that Anathema doesn’t know Crowley, or his anxiety or lack of self-worth, or the lack of understanding that he does deserve good things, so he takes a deep breath to calm himself before he starts shouting at the girl.</p><p> </p><p>“You think he overreacted, but this is what he experienced; being slapped in the face with the fact that he doesn’t deserve to be happy and loved, that he is a failure undeserving of good things, that people do think that he is worthless.” Anathema appears very concerned by this, and guilty as she wraps her arms around herself. Aziraphale may have said more than he should, but he needs Anathema to understand that her interference must stop here.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry.” She says quietly. “I didn’t know.” And that is the whole point, isn’t it? She didn’t know, and she didn’t deign it important to learn.</p><p> </p><p>“You always charge headfirst into every situation with a confidence I am sometimes envious of, Anathema, but sometimes you lose your tact. You were like a bull in a fine china shop.” She nods.</p><p> </p><p>“I… I’m sorry, but I’d like to be alone.” She nods again and silently leaves, properly chastised.</p><p> </p><p>Anathema exits the bookshop feeling wretched. What had been a good relationship for Aziraphale she had almost ruined, and she had done it all in the cause of looking out for him. Now it makes a whole lot more sense, the brunette thinks, how Crowley’s sister had nearly ripped her head off. Anathema crossed a pretty important line. She hadn’t known, but she hadn’t stopped to think that there was a reason for all of it. She’d just assumed that Crowley was a twat.</p><p> </p><p>Newt was right, she <em>is</em> the villain. And she owes the redhead an apology. She’s just not sure how to go about it without making things worse. The man might not want to see her or hear an apology from her either. It’s hard to make up for your transgression when you’ve fucked up so bad.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>While Anathema’s day has turned rather sour, Crowley’s is rather good. Fantastic, really, considering that he’s no longer plagued by thoughts and fighting with his self-worth, or the lack there-of. There’s something to be said about communication, it <em>does</em> something to work out the issues he has with himself sometimes. Everything is good, especially since he gets a text from Aziraphale after his very last lecture for the day, where the blonde is wondering if the redhead would be up for a phone call in the evening.</p><p> </p><p>A slow and careful start.</p><p> </p><p><em>‘Course. </em>Crowley reply. He looks forward to it. Even more so when he saunters towards his Bentley, and waits for Babylon who’ll be staying over for dinner today. He doesn’t have to wait long before he sees her enter the carpark alongside her date/boyfriend/partner? Babylon hasn’t labelled the two yet, so Crowley’s not sure what to call the man. They part with a wave and Crowley slips into the car as Babylon heads over to the passenger door.</p><p> </p><p>“How’s that going?” Crowley asks as he begins reversing out of his parking spot.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ve decided to go for a relationship.” Babylon answers with a small grin and Crowley holds out his fist, and she bumps her own against it.</p><p> </p><p>“Nice.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>“Celebratory dinner then. What do you want?”</p><p> </p><p>“Curry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bloody foodie.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not a foodie, your partner is. How’s that going by the way? How are you feeling?” She asks a little bit carefully, fully aware that something has been troubling him, but she hasn’t prodded any into it because Crowley had literally begged her not to, so she doesn’t know the details and it’s a bit difficult to be supportive in the right way when he won’t share what troubles him.</p><p> </p><p>“Better. We talked last night, and it’s all okay now. It was just me being anxious about nothing.” Babylon tilts her head. While it’s good that it had all turned out to be nothing to actually worry about, she hardly think it’s something to dismiss so easily. Perhaps it had been nerves of going into something new but real, and his insecurities had gotten a hold of him, but she also thinks it’s something he needs to process. She trusts that he will.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll be alright, Anthony.” She says instead of voicing her worries just yet and the man nods, smiling widely.</p><p> </p><p>“We will.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>After this I'll be taking a break until somewhere in January. Christmas is around the corner, then New Years, then immediately onto an exam, there's just too much happening for me to catch a break to write. So I hope this chapter makes up for the break</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A year has passed, everything is amazing, Crowley and Aziraphale walk with their fingers entwined when they’re out together.</p><p> </p><p>That’s right, people, they are holding hands! All the time.</p><p> </p><p>And do you know what they’re doing right now? Christmas shopping. Babylon and Bada have taken Warlock and Adam with them to start shopping for the Christmas dinner, which they will all celebrate together this year, to everyone’s excitement. While they’ve begun on the grocery shopping, Aziraphale and Crowley do the final gift shopping for the boys. It’s just the final gifts, and everything will be fine, everything will be done. And they both have something in mind for each of the boys. They just have to go get it.</p><p> </p><p>“Found it.” Crowley says as he pulls a lego-set off of the shelf. Warlock will love this, Crowley thinks as he moves around the aisles, trying to find Aziraphale. He finds the man by the stuffed animals.</p><p> </p><p>“Angel?”</p><p> </p><p>“Adam wants a dog, but I’m afraid that’ll have to wait until he’s a bit older. A stuffed animal will have to suffice.” He says with a chuckle, picking out a black and white puppy dog from the pile.</p><p> </p><p>“He’ll love it, angel.” Crowley assures him, and the blonde smiles, grateful for the support.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m looking forward to Christmas, my dear. To spend it with you and your family. Adam is excited as well, he’s literally told every customer that has come by that we’re going to spend Christmas with <em>‘his dad’s boyfriend’ </em>and his best friend.” The flush on the blonde’s cheeks is endearing, and it’s making Crowley feel a warm flutter in his chest, and to hear that Adam refers to him as Aziraphale’s boyfriend is just the icing on the cake. He loves it, loves his life, loves Aziraphale, and he bites the insides of his cheeks to keep himself from blurting the words out in front of the cashier in the store. Crowley’s known for a long time now that he loves Aziraphale, he’s just not had the courage to say the words yet. He wants it to be the perfect moment, the perfect time, candle-lit room, cosy atmosphere and the whole classic setting that movies keep showing on the big-screen. Unfortunately, or fortunately Crowley’s life is not a movie, so the perfect moment doesn’t just come along, he has to make it. And Babylon is his wingman, or is it wingwoman? Whatever, the point is the same.</p><p> </p><p>On Christmas, once the kids are asleep, when the mood is just right and it’s late, after she’s helped make the flat nice and cosy and candle-lit, she’ll take Bada with her, and it’ll just be him and Aziraphale, and it’ll be perfect and right and Crowley will say the words. So, Christmas, kids in bed, the mood cosy, the flat lit with romantic candles, Babylon and Bada gone, and voila. Okay, it’s not much of a grand plan, and Babylon isn’t doing much, but it’s a plan nonetheless, it has a goal. It’s easier with a to-do list.</p><p> </p><p>How many people have a to-do list when they’re going to confess their love? Exactly, Crowley is being original, all haters can fuck right off. This is his relationship, his and Aziraphale’s. Yes, they’ve been together for a little over a year, yeah, other people might have said the words way earlier, but this is Anthony J. Crowley’s first <em>real </em>relationship, he’s never felt like this before, and it’s precious and important and it’s theirs and Crowley is going to say the words at the perfect moment because that is what he wants.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Anathema, Newton!” Aziraphale suddenly exclaims, pulling Crowley out of his musing and making him realize that he’s just walked on autopilot and that they’re already at the grocery store.</p><p> </p><p>“Witch.” Crowley nods.</p><p> </p><p>“Crowley.” Anathema returns. Anathema had apologized for her transgression way back then, come slinking into his office with her tail between her legs and a potted plant in her hands, promised to never again butt into their relationship and apologized for judging him without knowing him. Crowley had been slightly tempted to let her stew in her misery. But she had looked honestly wretched and sincere in her gesture, kind of like a kicked puppy, and he hadn’t the heart to let her just go like that and feel bad about it forever, despite her being very deserving of it. So he had forgiven her, and as his relationship with Aziraphale had progressed, they began hanging out.</p><p> </p><p>Now they’re actual friends, which is incredible in itself.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d have thought you would have gone back home to America for the holidays.” Aziraphale addresses Anathema who grins.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be celebrating with Newt and his mom this year.” She appears very excited, Newt looks like he’s stuck between excited and having a mental melt-down. It amuses Crowley to no end. He can imagine the chaos, and he loves it.</p><p> </p><p>“How about you? When will you be heading home? Adam’s done with school now, yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, we will be celebrating with Crowley and his family this year. We’re quite looking forward to it.” They stand there chatting for a bit until suddenly someone runs into Crowley’s legs and wraps their arms around him.</p><p> </p><p>“Uncle AJ! What took you so long?” And then Adam’s there too, along with Babylon and Bada and the very much overfilled shopping cart. Apparently they’re already done, and the two men excuse themselves from the conversation. Babylon’s tone with Anathema is chillingly polite, but at the very least she’s not outright aggressive. That is more than Crowley could have hoped for when she had stormed into his flat one day, asking what the hell the <em>‘bloody american’ </em>had done to him that warranted the other woman apologize to Babylon. The American accepts it with great humility. They pay for the groceries, and Crowley drives Aziraphale and Adam home, while Babylon, Bada and Warlock heads straight to Mayfair to unload the groceries. By the time Crowley arrives back home, with a far too wide and wobbly smile on his lovestruck face, they have somehow managed to cram the groceries into the cupboards and fridge. They order in and watch a movie together before Babylon and Bada head out.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be early, help out and all that.” Babylon tells Crowley as she hugs Warlock goodbye. Crowley waves as they leave, before sinking more comfortably into the sofa.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think Adam and Azi will like our decorations?” Warlock asks and Crowley glances over to the oversized Christmas tree, the homemade garlands they started making three years ago when Warlock was four, and the stars in the windows, the Santa Claus plushies all over. Then he thinks over how Aziraphale’s flat had looked last year before they had left London to celebrate with the rest of the Fells.</p><p> </p><p>“Yuuuuup, no worries there, kiddo.” Crowley and Babylon never had that home with decorations and trees and gifts and family dinners when they were kids. Then their mother died and they had celebrated with Tracy, and then Warlock came into their lives and they began to make an even greater effort, even. Dagon said it might be them reclaiming parts of their own lacking childhood and all that crap. How much does Dagon get paid for her psychocrap anyways?</p><p> </p><p>“This is our first time with your boyfriend.” Warlock grins and Crowley throws a pillow at him, which escalates into a pillowfight of the most epic proportions of such that there are no words to describe its awesomeness. Said pillowfight also leaves the boy tuckered out when it’s time for bed, thankfully. Because it leaves Crowley exhausted too.</p><p> </p><p>Four days later, Babylon comes through the door at ten in the morning. Together with her brother, they clean the apartment while Warlock watches Christmas shows on the telly.</p><p> </p><p>“The turkey?” Babylon asks as she stores away the vacuum cleaner.</p><p> </p><p>“Defrosted.” Crowley answers from the bathroom. She pokes her head in and asks him what needs to happen next and she’s directed to his bedroom where she pulls out two bags with presents, which she brings to the living room. Warlock looks away from the screen when he hears her enter and he throws himself off of the sofa with such eagerness he nearly falls flat on his face in his hurry to help her. She also gets an earful for trying to do <em>his</em> job. Babylon holds her hands up in a defensive gesture as she laughs, telling him that she’s got a bag in the hall for him to retrieve. The darkhaired boy runs off and Babylon goes searching for the most Christmassy-like tablecloth her brother owns.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s lots of presents this year!” Warlock exclaims from his perch by the tree, just as Crowley exits the bathroom.</p><p> </p><p>“Because we’re three extra people this year, kiddo.” He says as he looks into the refrigerator. “Best get started on that turkey.” He mutters, and the two adults begin the task of heating the oven and preparing the turkey and pulling out all the vegetables they need and the ingredients for stuffing and sauce.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll be pushing it.” Babylon shakes her head with a fond smile, but Bada comes earlier than planned, gives Warlock the tiny bag of presents so he can stuff them under the tree, and then takes over for Babylon so she can duck into the bathroom and shower and get ready for the rest of the guests.</p><p> </p><p>“Dressing to impress, Hathaway?” Crowley jokes as the man pulls off his suit jacket, drops his cufflinks into his pocket and rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt.</p><p> </p><p>“Too much?” The man asks but Crowley shakes his head.</p><p> </p><p>“Nah, looks good. Babs loves waistcoats, but pinstripes? Really?”</p><p> </p><p>“Pinstripes look good on me.” Bada shrugs and Crowley has to admit that the younger man is right. He looks damn good in pinstripes. Go, Babs, go, Crowley has taught her right. They’re mostly done with the greens and they’ve begun on the sauce when they hear the bathroom door open and Babylon calling on Warlock to come and get dressed. The boy disappears into the bathroom and fifteen minutes later the both of them exit. Bada very nearly cuts himself when Babylon ushers her brother away from the counter and gets a proper look at her as she pulls on her apron. She looks gorgeous in her knee-length, green, velvet dress with elbow sleeves and sensible heels, her long hair curled into ringlets.</p><p> </p><p>As previously stated, he is so distracted her nearly cuts himself.</p><p> </p><p>“How do I look, Bada?” Warlock chirps, poking him and pulling him out of his thoughts. Warlock is wearing dark pants, a white dress-shirt with black suspenders and a red bowtie, his dark hair pulled back into a half-bun much like Crowley often wears.</p><p> </p><p>“Looking really sharp there, Warlock.” He tells the boy and he preens at the praise.</p><p> </p><p>“How about me, Bada?” Babylon teases, but Warlock beats the man to the punch.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re the prettiest, aunty Babs!” And it makes Babylon laugh, reaching down and patting his head.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you. Why don’t you go put on the music and make the flat extra Christmassy, and watch the door?”</p><p> </p><p>Not long after, Crowley is back in the kitchen, dressed in dark pants, a maroon coloured dress-shirt, a black tie and suspenders, his hair pulled away from his face in his usual half-bun and Babylon is plating the table. The doorbell rings mere minutes before the timer on the oven blares to life. In comes Aziraphale and Adam, looking nearly identical with tan dress pants, sky blue shirts and horrible Christmas-themed bowties, though unlike Adam, Aziraphale is wearing a cream-colored waist coat as well.</p><p> </p><p>“Babylon, you look lovely, my dear.” He says as he hands Warlcok the bag filled with presents.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Aziraphale. I see you’ve pulled out your best waistcoat tonight. Hoping to impress a certain someone?” She not-so-subtly glances at her brother and Aziraphale huffs.</p><p> </p><p>“I do have standards, my dear.” He replies playfully. “Do you need any help?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh no, everything is ready, just take your seats.”</p><p> </p><p>Dinner is a lovely affair, and when Babylon retreats to the living room where Bada, Adam and Warlock has escaped to with drinks and dessert, Aziraphale is putting down his plate as Crowley puts away and cleans the counter. And Aziraphale smiles at him in a way that makes Crowley’s heart beat too fast in hist chest, and has him nearly blurts the words out. The blonde grabs his hand and they head out to join the rest, leaving the mess to be cleaned up later. They enjoy the sweets, the cake and drinks and open presents together, Christmas music and the telly in the background. When it’s late and the boys have fallen asleep in Warlock’s bedroom, Babylon and Bada help clean up the last of the mess before they leave, and Crowley and Aziraphale cuddle on the sofa, watching a movie with sound on low so as not to disturb the boys.</p><p> </p><p>It's nice, it’s domestic, it’s something Crowley wants to experience each and every night, he wants this, he wants this, he wants it so bad. He tightens his grip on Aziraphale, who hums and nuzzles the redhead’s cheek. They’re warm, they’re comfortable, high on the success that is tonight, their first Christmas together.</p><p> </p><p>“I love you.” The words don’t come unbidden, he makes no effort to bite them back this time, as he has done countless times since Aziraphale agreed to spend Christmas together, and he watches less nervous than he thought he would be, as Aziraphale stares for a moment before he positively beams a smile brighter than the sun up at him, and repeats the words before kissing him.</p><p> </p><p>So far, this has been Crowley’s best Christmas.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Heeeeey, remember when I said I'd come back in early January? haha, that didn't happen. Still not actually back though</p><p> </p><p>Warnings: Mentions of past rape and a lot of trauma</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Beeze curses as their call to Crowley goes straight through to voicemail. Considering that Beeze knows for a fact that he is having a day off, and should be at home in his flat with Warlock, that is not a good sign.</p><p> </p><p>“Drive faster!” They snap at their driver who looks startled in the rear-view mirror.</p><p> </p><p>“But, we’ll violate the-“</p><p> </p><p>“I could not give less of a flying fuck! <em>Driver faster!” </em>They check their mobile again, makes one more call, and curses inwardly when it goes straight to voicemail again. All they can hope for is that Crowley has just put his mobile on silent, and that he has not read the papers yet. Beeze may have only come to know Crowley after he began university all those years ago, but they know more than enough about the shit he and his sister went through, and what more they might be facing now. With a growl they pull up the article on the phone again, and reads through it one more time. Fucking hell. Right, they try to rationalize with themselves that Crowley isn’t the same ball of anxiety on two legs that he once was. He is much calmer now, he has a better hold of himself, he has years of therapy and a support system. He will be fine. <em>He is fine!</em></p><p> </p><p>“We’re here-“ The driver says but Beeze is already out the door, barking an order that the driver finds a place to park and wait until they come back out again. They do not specify how long it’ll take, but if the driver notice, he does not comment on it. They race to the elevator, their scowl having whoever they meet jump out of the way as they barge in and insistently pushes the buttons.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, come on, <em>come on!</em>” They snap as they impatiently tap their feet. The elevator ride takes too long, but the moment the doors open to the floor in which Crowley’s flat is at, they dart down the hall. Then they’re at the door, and they bang their fists against it.</p><p> </p><p>“Crowley! Crowley, I know you’re home, open the door! I’ve got to talk to you!” But no matter how much they bang at the door, Crowley doesn’t answer, until there’s a click and Beeze takes a step back, waiting for the door to open, to show Crowley stare at them like they’ve grown a second head and ask why the fuck they’re trying to break his door down, but that doesn’t happen. Warlock opens the door, and the poor boy looks absolutely terrified and is crying.</p><p> </p><p>“Something’s wrong with Uncle AJ!” Beeze curses again and ushers the boy back inside and closes the door, running into the flat, but not seeing Crowley anywhere. They turn back to Warlock who says his uncle is in his bedroom, so Beeze runs off and knocks on the door, as they are entering. Crowley is nowhere the be seen. Beeze frowns, but then Warlock is there too, tugging on their arm and pointing at the bed.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s down there.” Shit.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, I’ll fix this, but first I’m going to get someone to take you someplace else, alright kid? Your uncle is in a bad place right now, and you shouldn’t be here to see it.” They say this despite the fact that the boy has probably seen more than he was prepared to, if the tear tracks are anything to go by. Warlock nods without a fuss though, and Beeze calls their driver, who is really their assistant, and tells him to come on up, get the boy, and drive him to A. Z Fell and Co, while at the same time shooting a text to the bookshop owner to tell him that the boy is on his way. Questions will be asked, but Beeze has no time for it right now. There are other matters that are much more important. The assistant comes up to the apartment and Beeze sends Warlock on his way before they take a deep breath and enter the bedroom again, carefully pulling up the sheets so they’re able to properly look beneath the bed.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck.” They breathe out, seeing Crowley curled up in a ball, tears streaming down his face, a vacant look in his eyes. Crowley isn’t here right now. Not mentally. He’s somewhere far away, trapped decades back in time, Beeze has seen it before. Hopefully they’ll be able to coax him back before anyone come rushing through the door and escalates the situation.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Crowley?” No response.</p><p> </p><p>“Will you come out from under there?” They try as gently as they can. Again, there is no response, and Beeze comes to accept that they won’t be going anywhere for quite a while.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  
</p><p>Babylon is, well, surprised is not the right word. Flabbergasted isn’t it either. Terrified and nearly about to pee her pants despite the fact that she has just gone to the bathroom for the tenth time that day is closer to it.</p><p> </p><p>“Son of a bitch.”</p><p> </p><p>“How’s it going in there, sweetling?” Sara’s voice carries through the door and Babylon feels the slight urge to bash her skull in on the sink. Just a slight urge. It would save her some serious talk, but it’d hurt too much, and Sara would never let her head the end of it.</p><p> </p><p>“Babylon, are you alright?” Anna’s voice sounds after the silence and Babylon groans loudly.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s going on here?” And when the <em>fuck </em>did Bada come back home? She scrambles to her feet and does actually hit her head on the sink which leads to very loud cursing from her and worried fussing on the other side of the door, before she unlocks the wooden barrier and peeks out. The three stares at her, Anna and Sara exchanging glances, and Bada frowning in confusion. Babylon casts the girls a helpless look and the two nod amongst themselves, coming to some sort of silent agreement.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, we’re leaving. See you later, yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sara, no, don’t-“ Babylon does not want to be alone right now, she needs support, she needs to tell the news, she-</p><p> </p><p>“Call me later, Babs.” She watches helplessly as the two leaves, then glances up at Bada, who looks worried now.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s going on? Are you okay?” Okay? Is she okay? Probably not, who the fuck knows, she doesn’t. But there’s no use dragging this out, so she gestures for him to wait as she ducks back into the bathroom and stares at the plastic stick on the counter. Fucking hell. She nabs it and exits the bathroom, thrusting it out for him to take. So he does, and he stares, and the long, long silence that follows really unnerves her. The way he just flops to the ground like he’s a marionette who got his strings cut freaks her out and she yelps.</p><p> </p><p>“Seriously?” He asks, looking up and she exhales loudly, rubbing her face as she leans against the wall by the slightly open door and slumps down too.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” There’s another long silence in which he just stares at the test in his hands before he looks at her again.</p><p> </p><p>“Could be false positive?” He suggests, almost hopefully, and she pushes the door to fully open, so that he can see the mess that is, now, their bathroom, and the other tests laying on the floor.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s the eight one.” She herself had hoped it had been a false positive. And then again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and then realized that there was just no way that was happening.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” He stares at the pile of tests before looking at her again. “Please tell me they dried off before you dropped them to the floor.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll fucking clean it up for good fucking measure, alright?” She rubs her face viciously, hearing from his tone of voice that he’s not actually scolding her, but is trying to lighten the mood, but she isn’t sure if it’s really appropriate right now. She appreciates it though, despite the fact that it doesn’t make this any less weird, awkward and terrifying. But now that it’s out there, they just have to talk about it, right? Figure out what to do, right? Will it be easy, will it be hard? Is this a deal breaker? She’s got an offer for a job after university, all she has to do is make sure to write a good bachelor article, and she’ll be done, she’ll have a job, she can do home offices. So that’s taken care of, but then there is this. She stares at Bada who shuffles over to sit beside her, dropping the test to the floor between them as he goes. She leans against him, feels exhausted already.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you want to do?” He asks carefully, resting his chin atop her head.</p><p> </p><p>“I have no fucking idea.” She answers honestly.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want a deep, long conversation about it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?” She asks and he shrugs.</p><p> </p><p>“Can postpone it. Until we get our bearings.” He suggests and she turns enough to be able to glance up at him.</p><p> </p><p>“I like the sound of that.”</p><p> </p><p>“But I’ll just add to that and say I am on-board with whatever you decide. So, you know, don’t worry yourself about what you think I want, and think more about what you want. Because I am here. No matter what. Takes two to tango, and er, all that shit.” She laughs wetly, pulling her legs up to her chest.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks for eradicating the entire need for that deep, long conversation.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thought you might appreciate that.” She laughs again, and fully sags against him, and the weight of the situation finally falls properly onto their shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>“Jesus fucking Christ. I’ve got to tell Anthony…”</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  
</p><p>Beeze has finally managed to coax Crowley out from under the bed. He is still <em>by</em> the bed, he’s not budging away from it, hands fisting the bedsheets and unwilling to let go, like they’re some kind of safety net, and they’ve found themselves sitting by the night table, just waiting for his breathing to even out. His mobile is in the living room, Beeze saw it on their way in. The screen is cracked and dark, so it’s safe to say he’ll need a new mobile later on. He’s curled up in a ball, arms around his drawn-up knees and his face buried and hidden. He looks rather small like that, it’s almost scary.</p><p> </p><p>“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” He suddenly says, voice gravelly from all the crying.</p><p> </p><p>“Who says you have to do anything? He’s been caught doing something unbelievably shitty, he’ll be going to jail. You don’t have to do anything.” They answer, quick and clean. They’re sorry that Crowley went about and had to find out his father being in the area, and what he’s being charged for in such a matter because it has obviously brought back a lot of traumatic memories, but there is nothing that forces Crowley to have anything to do with the matter. His father washed his hands clean off of his children when Babylon was born, and Crowley owes the man nothing but trauma and nightmares. Besides, Crowley took on his mother’s name, he is in no way, shape or form connected to his father, not by name or association. No one will connect the dots.</p><p> </p><p>“He called.” The words are uttered in a breathless whimper and Beeze nearly misses it. They sit up.</p><p> </p><p>“He what?”</p><p> </p><p>“I was his call. He called. Told me to get him legal help.” Shit. That’s… That’s how Crowley found out. Not the papers. That’s even worse than what Beeze thought. They rub their forehead, scowling, before exhaling harshly. Fucking bastard. How’d he get Crowley’s number when they haven’t been in contact for, what, two decades? How’d he know Crowley is in London? Does he know where he lives? Has he spied on them?</p><p> </p><p>“You still don’t have to do anything.”</p><p> </p><p>“He said I owed him, the least I could do was help my father out, he said.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t owe him shit!” It comes out louder and harsher than what they meant for it to do, and Crowley flinches. Fuck, he’ll retreat again, he’ll go back down into his mind and sink so far Beeze won’t be able to pull him back out for hours-</p><p> </p><p>“I owe him a lot.” Crowley finally says and Beeze just stares, unable to understand what the hell Crowley is talking about, because in their eyes, Crowley owes the bastard nothing, absolutely nothing, zilch, zero, <em>nothing</em>. Why the hell does Crowley say that the owes him anything? The man never raised him, he never showed him any affection or love, hell, he never even fed him or clothed him, so <em>what, </em>exactly, does Crowley owe him?</p><p> </p><p>“I owe him a fuckload of trauma.” He begins quietly, and Beeez blinks. “I ow him bruises and beatings and cuts and a broken fucking tooth. I owe him the scar above my eye and my fear of the dark. I owe him decades of nightmares of listening to my mum scream and cry and beg him through the walls not to touch her as he raped her again and again and fucking again, hitting her when she resisted, <em>held a knife to her face, and told her to just fucking shut up and take it like the whore he said she was</em>, and did it <em>again</em>. Hurt her again and again, even when she was pregnant with Babs, it was a <em>fucking miracle</em> she made it to term, and then he did the kindest thing he’s ever done to us and fucked off, but it was already too fucking late, yeah? <em>Mum was still stuck with us! Her bloody rape kids!” </em></p><p>
  
</p><p><em>“</em>What?” Both of them look up and sees Babylon stand on the threshold, eyes wide and confused, brows furrowed with hurt.</p><p> </p><p>‘<em>Oh fuck…’</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What…” Babylon begins, pausing, “what are you talking about?” Her voice cracks as her mind tries to process what she just heard her brother say. Their mother, their piece of shit dad who, who what? Raped her? Several times? And their mother was stuck with them when he ran off? The sudden feeling of bile rising in her throat makes her dash for the bathroom, the sound of her brother and Beeze scrambling to get up on their feet and follow her lost in the pounding in her ears as she shoves the door open so hard it cracks against the wall and throws herself over the toilet bowl. She hasn’t been plagued much with an upset stomach, that’s not why she thought about testing herself, but now she can’t seem to stop throwing up whatever is left in her stomach. Even when there’s nothing left, she gasps and retches. There’s a hand on her back, she hears Crowley say something, but she is unable to actually understand what the words mean, but it helps. Crowley’s hand is big and warm on her back, and it helps calm her down. </p><p>“- course I didn’t want her to find out!” Crowley hisses behind her, and she can hear Beeze, uncharacteristically gentle, reply. </p><p>“But she does, now, so you’ve got to talk about it, resolve it. She won’t just take this kind of information lying down.” And that is right, she won’t, because she needs to know what it means, why they were talking about it, why they were talking about it now. She rests her forehead against the rim of the toilet and stares down at her still flat stomach, gritting her teeth. The universe really has a sick sense of humour. She could have gone through her whole life happily without knowing this fact. </p><p>“What happened?” She rasps, trying her best to avoid smacking her lips. Her mouth feels awful, her breath is probably just as bad. </p><p>“Babylon-“ </p><p>“I’m not stupid, you wouldn’t be talking about him now if something didn’t happen. And where’s Warlock?” She spits, wrinkling her nose. There’s shuffling behind her as she reaches up to flush the toilet, and sags against the sink. Crowley looks gaunt, exhausted, and Beeze looks careful, like they think Crowley is made of glass and will shatter with just the tiniest application of pressure. It’s so weird. Beeze, no matter what, had never treated Crowley like he was made of glass, not like this. Sure, they had been careful with their words, but Babylon can’t recall them ever looking so worried. It’s eerie, unnatural, down-right terrifying, but they pull out their phone, fiddles with it for a moment, before handing it over to her. She stares at the screen, at the article on it, at the picture on it. She doesn’t know who the man is, she sees the name written beneath the picture, the article that was written, the crime he has been charged with, and looks up at her brother. </p><p>“This is?” </p><p>“Our dad.” She looks down again, tries to find a sliver of resemblance between Crowley and the man, then she gets up on shaky feet and stares at herself in the mirror, then the picture again. There is absolutely nothing about the man that she can connect to herself, or her brother. And she is fine with that, because she has never once thought about her dad, wondered why she didn’t have a dad, or where the fuck said person might be. She’s had her mother and brother, and that, as tumultuous as it had been back then, had been more than enough. She has her brother, Warlock and Beeze, Bada, Sara and Anna, and in a familial way, she has Aziraphale and Adam too. A father she doesn’t know and has never even seen or met, she has no need for that. She reads the article, feels sick again but swallows. There’s nothing left in her, so, no. </p><p>“Sperm donor.” She says, and the other two look at her as she hands the phone back to Beeze before settling down beside Crowley. </p><p>“He’s a sperm donor.” She repeats, decisively. “Where’s Warlock?” </p><p>“I sent him to his friend.” Beeze answers, and she nods, turning to look at Crowley. </p><p>“Are you okay?” He blinks, but then looks down. </p><p>“No.” He slumps. “He called. Told me to get him some legal help, that I owed him. But I don’t owe him shit.” He even though he says this, there’s no anger or venom in his voice, only tiredness. She can guess as to what happened before Beeze got here. Crowley is scared and tired and so done with everything.</p><p>“I thought you said you owed him a lot.” She mutters, and he scowls. “So get him that legal help.” Both Beeze and Crowley look at her like she’s grown a second head, and both exclaim loudly what they think of her suggestion. </p><p>“What the fuck?” She shrugs, feeling tired too. </p><p>“He just said legal help, yeah? Did he specify that it had to be good?” Both stare. “If you owe him all that pain and misery and trauma, then you pay him back, yeah? Shitty lawyer for a shitty life.” Beeze is the first to break the long silence that follows with a quiet laugh. </p><p>“True. He didn’t specify, did he?” </p><p>“No.” Crowley says, pulling his legs up to his chest as his sister falls against him, head resting on his bony shoulder. </p><p>“I still say you should ignore the bastard. Let him rot, let him feel what it’s like.” Crowley nods. </p><p>“Yeah… Yeah, I should. I don’t want to help him in any way, I don’t want to be connected to him in any way, I don’t want anything to do with him.” It’s not an easy thing to say after all he’s been through, but he’s forcing the words out there, and he means them. After everything he suffered as a kid, everything he had to listen to, to realize so quickly and harshly that his home isn’t a safe space, that he isn’t safe around his parents, that he has no one to rely on, and to suddenly have the responsibility for Babylon when she came around too… It had been too much, much more than he should have experienced, and it had taken years to being able to just begin at untangling those messed up threads, but he’s getting there. There’s a new knot that needs untangling now, but he knows he can do it. He wraps an arm around Babylon and presses a kiss to the top of her head. </p><p>“I’m sorry, Babs. That you had to figure it out this way.” He had never thought about telling her about their dad, considering that he left without even signing her birth certificate and had never been part of her life. She had never asked, she didn’t know what kind of man he was like, so he thought it best to just not tell her about him at all unless she did ask. He never thought the piece of shit would come falling back into his orbit like this. He feels like the worst brother ever, and that’s a knot that’s going to be hard to undo. He literally yelled, as she stood in the doorway, that they are rape kids. He runs a hand over his face, exhaling loudly. </p><p>‘I didn’t know she was in the flat, I didn’t know she was in the flat, I didn’t know she was in the flat.’ He keeps thinking. Because he didn’t know she was in the flat. If he had known, he wouldn’t have yelled it all out like this. She’s never once seen a picture of the man, she would have just seen the article in the papers, if she even bothered to read it, and gone on with her life being none the wiser about it. But she had been in the flat, and now she knows, and he worries what kind of thoughts she’s sitting with now. He’s done his best to make sure she’s felt loved her entire life, and now she knows that she wasn’t conceived out of love, not even by fucking choice. And that’ll turn anyone’s world upside down. Fuck, he hopes she doesn’t bottle this all up, he hopes she takes care of herself, he hopes she understands that she can come to him for anything. And Warlock, Christ, Warlock had seen him shout and throw the phone with all his might at the wall, the boy saw him crumple into a fucking mess and it must have been absolutely terrifying to watch. He has got to apologize, to work on making sure something like that never happens again. </p><p>Aziraphale probably has a lot of questions too. Warlock had probably been in quite the state when he arrived there. Crowley feels heavy, like a burden has settled more firmly over his shoulders than lifted. It’s when it’s like this that it’s hard to find the energy and motivation to actually do anything about it. </p><p>‘One step at a time, one step at a time. Don’t take on the whole world, just one thing at a time-‘</p><p>“I’m pregnant.” All thoughts halt, all movements stop, and Crowley just stares straightforward. Beeze collects themselves quicker, but keeps quiet. They’ve got nothing to say here, and they also feel like they’re intruding, and at the same time they’re afraid to move, to break the delicate balance hanging in the air. Jesus Christ they willingly walked straight into the greatest mess they’ve ever seen. </p><p>“What?” Crowley croaks out. </p><p>“You didn’t answer your phone.” Babylon begins quietly. “So I came over to tell you I’m pregnant.” Again there is a long silence before Crowley squeezes her tightly for a moment. </p><p>“Alright… Alright.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This has no fixed update schedule (like every other of my works right now), because of my internship and exams coming up and when spring comes I'll have to start working on my bachelor's article. But I hope I'll make it worth waiting for ^^</p></blockquote></div></div>
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